


Life, and Other Details

by zinjadu



Series: Knight-Errant [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clan, Confessions, Dad!Plo, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Leadership, Lessons, Loneliness, Losing faith, M/M, Meditation, Multi, Offering help, Partial Mind Control, Politics, Redemption, Strained Relationships, bickering siblings, clones are people too!, mothers and sons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: Life in the rest of the Galaxy moves on.  Ahsoka spends time with our favorite troopers, Anakin learns to adjust to life without Ahsoka always around, Kit Fisto teaches important lessons, Aayla Secura and Quinlan Vos have a chat that goes sideways, Wolffe and Tai (Plo Koon's padawan) continue to annoy the hell out of each other, Padme Does Politics, and more!Snapshots, adventures and moments of life all while there's still a ticking time bomb at the heart of the Republic.Tags added as I go.





	1. By Example

It would not be the first time that she would think that, although she was a General in the Grand Army of the Republic and a Knight-Errant of the Jedi Order, Ahsoka was, technically, too young to be in a cantina unaccompanied.

 

That she had a battalion of clones on Ossus didn’t seem to count.

 

And she wasn’t sure they should count anyway, considering the oldest of them, Rex, was twelve. Though he would be thirteen soon, if her reckoning was right. The troopers didn’t exactly keep track of their ‘Decanting Day,’ and seeing as thousands of men shared the same day, it probably didn’t seem all that special.

 

As a Jedi, she shouldn’t keep track of birthdays either.

 

She had never used to, simply acknowledging the growing of another year. But now, somehow, birthdays seemed important. Maybe it was just having any excuse to be festive, or maybe it was an actual accomplishment now, surviving another year.

 

“Hey, General,” Fives said, wrapping a casual arm around her shoulders. He was only mildly intoxicated, though she knew the slur was a put on. “You tell my stupid _vod_ that there’s no way he can beat me at darts.” Fives pointed accusingly at Tup, who in turn merely raised his hands and shook his had sadly, as though Fives had finally lost what little sense he had to begin with.

 

“You’re a good shot, Fives, but I don’t know,” she drawled, giving him a bright smile. “Tup has a good eye.”

 

“Listen to our General, _vod_ ,” Tup said, the light in his eyes belying his staid mannerism. “She’s only looking out for you.”

 

“That’s it! Kriff it, we’re playing darts!” Fives declared, and dragged Tup away. Tup cast a glance back at the table, shrugging as if to say _what can you do?_ It was just as they were leaving that Jesse returned with drinks.

 

“What was that all about?” he asked, handing the drinks around. Kix took his gratefully and made room for his brother. Rex snorted and shook his head, leaning forward and shouting to make himself heard over the din.

 

“Tup might finally have managed to con Fives,” her commander said.

 

“Really? Good on Tup. Though, if he gets into Fives’ stash of credits, he’s buying the next round,” Jesse said and leaned back on Kix. Kix, for his part, put a casual arm around his brother as he raised his glass high.

 

“If that’s the case, may the Force be with you, Tup, and may the drinks be with us!” Kix cheered, and they all raised their glasses to that. She had declined human alcohol as a matter of course, and instead drank watered down _Nar’him_ , if only to keep her own head when they were only here for a pit stop before headed to the next mission.

 

“I suppose it would be frivolous use of the Force if you nudged things a bit, eh, General?” Jesse asked, his eyes bright, and she laughed.

 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jesse, but would Tup really want to win that way?” she asked, a teasing tone in her voice. Jesse blinked and looked at Kix, then looked back to her.

 

“Who cares? _I_ want him to win so we can get free drinks and see Fives humbled,” Jesse said.

 

“Jesse, you’re horrible when you’re drunk,” Kix commented mildly, but his grin took the sting out of the words. Jesse was about to rely when the cantina band suddenly stopped playing music and four troopers, shinies by the look of them, had run the stage and were trying to play the instruments in a fit of drunken revelry.

 

Then, like they hadn’t been drinking, her command officers shot to their feet and started using their broad shoulders to make their way through the crowd. Ahsoka _jumped_ and interposed herself between the shinies and the security brutes. She held up her hands, looking non-threatening, but letting the hilts of her sabers show. She had exactly zero intention of _drawing_ them here, of course, but they were a badge of office, and being a Jedi on Ossus still held a lot of sway.

 

The obvious impossible jump and her saber hilts were enough to give the thugs pause. And that pause was enough time for Rex and others to get to the stage and start roughly pulling their brothers away. Being rough with disruptive troopers had two aims that Rex had explained to her once. For one, it got their attention, troopers being a remarkably determined lot. The other reason was that if they were visibly tough on their own, civilians wouldn’t feel the need to take matters into their own hands.

 

“Now see here, we’ve been very kind to the 332nd, and we respect what they’ve done for the Republic, but you assured me that your men could behave themselves!” the proprietor, a dumpy Twi’lek woman, accused. Ahsoka put on her best conciliatory smile, the one she had learned from Padme.

 

“I am truly sorry. We’ll be leaving now, and I’ll see to my men. This will _not_ happen again,” Ahsoka assured the woman, whose eyes widened in shock as she looked past Ahsoka at what, exactly, ‘rough’ entailed for troopers. Hopefully no one needed bacta, and although Fives _was_ drunk, she trusted Rex to keep things reasonable.

 

The woman coughed and straightened, recovering from her shock. _She should see how they are when they play Trooper-ball,_ Ahsoka thought wryly to herself, and managed to keep the smirk off of her face.

 

She probably shouldn’t be so proud of herself for that.

 

“Yes, well, see that they don’t,” the woman said primly and stalked off, her pet thugs trailing her. They both tried to give her an intimating glare, but she had stared down a raving Trandoshian once. The thugs didn’t even rate on her radar as far as that was concerned.

  
What _did_ ping on her radar was having to call back every last trooper who had been looking forward to the scant R&R time she and Admiral Kersos could manage to get for them. The Senate was slow in approving the Relief bill, which would hold troopers to the same tour of duty and rest standards as the non-clone personnel in the army and navy, so it was from one fire to another for the troopers. She had learned from Anakin, however, how to squeeze in a bit of rest time here and there for them, and she knew how precious it was to them.

 

She hated calling it off, but there was no choice now. They knew the big rule: no disturbing the civvies.

 

“Erel,” she commed up to the ship and her Admiral picked up immediately. “Put it out, battalion wide, complete recall. No exceptions.”

 

“Dare I ask how bad it was?” he asked. She sighed as she stalked to the door, where Rex and the others had already guided the shinies out.

 

“Not bad, not really, but tensions are higher now than ever before. I don’t want to risk any trooper needlessly,” she said, and Kersos’s silence spoke louder than words. They both knew that some sentients did not care for the clones at all, saw them as abominations, monsters, walking weapons or, charmingly, all three at once. Any excuse to harass clones was a good one for some, and so the harsh rules about their outings.

 

“I’ll see to it on my end, let me know if you need anyone from C&C to help,” he offered.

 

“No, but thank you,” she replied as she left the cantina, the cool Ossus night air hitting her skin like a balm and the relative quiet a relief to her montrals. Cantinas were fun, but they could become not fun very quickly, and then everything that was fun became an annoyance. She had no idea why, but that’s how it was.

 

“I think that getting the troopers to handle this themselves might work out for unit cohesion,” she said as Rex caught her eye. He still held one of the troopers by the neck, who managed to look dejected and defiant all at once.

 

“Understood. Kersos out,” he said, and cut the comm as she signed off as well. Then she trotted across the street to catch up to her men. As she caught up, Rex gave the trooper one last shake and let him go. The man stood, rubbing his neck, but didn’t meet Rex’s cold hawk eyes.

 

“We got the notification, General, its already going out,” Fives said, looking for all the world like he hadn’t been working on a good drunk just five minutes ago.

 

“Good,” she said, and grimaced. “Jesse, Tup, I want you at the spaceport directing things. Orderly, no pushing, no blaming. I don’t want the Ossus officials getting upset with us,” she ordered. The two men nodded sharply and jogged off, already contacting the pilots and ordering them to the spaceport on the double.

 

“Fives, round up the ARCs and sniff out stragglers, would you? Make it clear that as long as they’re back by count, I won’t mind if they tried to stick it out,” she said, and Fives gave her a lazy salute. The ARC-troopers were sideways thinkers, and they _were_ the ones most likely to try to stay longer than ordered. But if given a job, they would be tenacious in carrying it out. Fives knew exactly what she had done, and went off anyway.

 

“Kix,” she said, and then glanced briefly at the four troopers who were responsible for this mass evac. They had the grace to look away from _her_ gaze at least, even if they still shot glares at Rex when his back was turned. Kix only raised an eyebrow at her, likely knowing what the order was, but waiting on her to say it anyway.

 

“Take these men up to the ship, no waiting, and straight to my ready room,” she said, and knew Kix understood the implicit order: _soften them up, play good security officer before I come down on them like a ton of durasteel. Because I’m the General, and that’s my job now._

 

“Sir,” he acknowledged, and then turned to the shinies. “Come on, _vod’e_ , let’s go.” The men marched off, shoulders slumped. It was finally starting to sink in the trouble they’d caused. It wasn’t just them in trouble, but the whole battalion. The price of _appearing_ interchangeable to the general public: all the men were blamed for the sins of one.

 

“Kriffing stupid shinies, kriffing, _karking_ long-necks,” Rex growled, jaw clenching. “They let them out of Kamino without all the training they need. These new _vod’e_ , they don’t know enough to _know_.”

 

Ahsoka frowned at that. She hadn’t noticed a change in the shininess of the shinies, but then Rex had once been one. The training was even more rushed these days, she knew, but it might be worse than she had ever thought. Still, now was not the time for this. She needed to do what she could so that Ossus wouldn’t turn back other battalions, including her own. Lightly, she rested her hand on his arm, and that brought his attention back to her, like a turret zeroing in on a target. Then his expression softened, though he didn’t smile, he at least looked less angry.

 

“I notice you didn’t give me any orders,” he said, his voice still low, but his tone was even.

 

“We have the worst job, actually,” she said, giving his arm a conciliatory pat before she started walking on.

 

“I don’t suppose you’ll enlighten me?” he asked dryly.

 

“We get to go apologize to all the cantina owners and explain how not all troopers are the same,” she said. He drew in a deep breath then let it out in a huff.

 

“The fun never stops with you, Ahsoka,” he teased, and she gave a sharp bark of laughter before getting back to work.

 

* * *

 

Later, much later, after all the troopers made it back to the _Adamant_ safely, and after she had disciplined the four troopers: Mel, Pel, Yarin, and Lucky. They were turned into a cleaning squad, kept from joining their brothers in battle until they had completed their tasks and until, as Rex had said: “Seen the value of hard work like one of the best of us.”

 

Still trying to puzzle that one out, she sat in the mess hall even though it was well after ship-midnight. She had a mug of tea in front of her. It was never her favorite, tasting mostly like hot leaf juice, but Obi-Wan had managed to find one that appealed to her carnivore’s palate. The memory brought a brief smile to her face as she recalled the man insisting that Ahsoka would learn to like tea, to make up for Anakin’s greatest failing: hating tea.

 

“Mind a bit of company?” a trooper said, and saw it had been Jesse with Kix in tow as usual. She shook her head and gestured for them to join her. They each had a cup of _caf_ and sat across from her.

 

“How’re you holding up, General?” Kix asked, not leaning forward like a lot of troopers would have. It was how they showed they were paying attention, but Kix had learned how to draw troopers out of themselves, and body language was part of it.

 

Troopers and Togruta Jedi, it seemed.

 

“Wishing I hadn’t had to do that,” she said ruefully, and she saw Tup and Fives making their way to them as well.

 

“You had to, General,” Jesse assured her. “Right Fives?” he asked, jerking his chin at his younger brother.

 

“We agree for once,” Fives said, his smile sharp.

 

“I’ll make a note. Maybe they’ll celebrate this day,” Tup remarked wryly, nudging Fives with his shoulder, who nudged back. She knew the force of those playful nudges, but troopers grew up knowing only that rough kind affection. Perhaps the ones who grew entirely in Master Ti’s care would be different, but all the troopers she knew had known only the Kaminoan scientists and their Mandalorian trainers. Then she saw Rex enter the mess hall, taking in the impromptu gathering that had formed.

 

She inclined her head toward him, an invitation, and he nodded in acceptance. The others turned to watch their commander approach, and not for the first time Ahsoka noticed that no matter how competent or how self-assured a trooper was, they would always defer to Rex. A few wouldn’t. Cody and Wolffe she knew for sure, though they respected each other. Rex, for whatever reason, carried a quiet kind of authority with him, and as he reached them, Fives slid over easily to let his older brother sit next to her.

 

“You want me to get you a _caf_ , _vod_?” Tup asked, the youngest of the troopers here, and for all that he was a Captain now, still eager to assist his commanders. Rex gave his youngest brother a small smile and a shake of his head.

 

“I’m good, Tup, but thanks,” Rex said.

 

“How’s the navy side of things handling this?” Fives asked. Ahsoka and Rex looked at each other, then he gestured that she take the question.

 

“The Admiral’s understanding. Something about being a doctor first, and an Admiral second, though I wasn’t clear on what that had to do with anything, and honestly a bit too harried to ask,” she said, shaking her head.

 

“The old navy hands aren’t too upset. They’re used to you lot,” she said, and reached around Rex to poke Fives glared at her. She was likely the only person in the galaxy who could poke troopers and get away with it, and the others smiled at her causal annoyance of their most annoying brother.

 

“What about the new ones?” Kix asked, his eyes worried.

 

“They’re a bit rattled. They know you’re good in a fight, but this kind of behavior, although it’s no different from them during R&R, scares some of them,” she admitted, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth even saying it.

 

“Idiots,” Jesse growled.

 

“They don’t understand, _vod_ ,” Kix reminded him, but Jesse shook his head. She knew they were dancing near dangerous territory for the troopers, what thoughts they had and what they said, even to her, were not always one and the same.

 

“You’re both right,” Rex said. “They are idiots, but only because they don’t understand. So we do our best to fix that.”

 

“You saying we need to be diplomats, Rex?” Fives asked, and then laughed.

 

“I don’t see what’s that’s funny,” Tup said. “Rex is right, we need to lead by example and be the example that they can all see, that we’re not a threat to their safety.”

 

“Kriff, Tup, I wasn’t saying that he’s wrong, just that its ridiculous. I’m a soldier, not a politician,” Fives said.

 

“Not politicians,” Rex said softly, but there was something cold there. After her trial, Rex had little love for the political process. “But examples isn’t far off.”

 

“Going to have to agree with Rex on this one, boys,” Ahsoka put in. “It’s the right general idea anyway. Let’s face it, for most people you _aren’t_ normal. Look at you. Rex is _twelve_. He shouldn’t be in a cantina at all, but there he was. You’re all stronger, faster, and quicker than the average human, pushed to the limits of genetic tinkering. You’re a product, but you’re clearly _men_ , and ugh! You confuse people, is what I’m trying to say, and when people are confused they don’t know how to act around you, so they get scared.”

 

They all digested that for a few moments, and she felt their emotions dance at her words. It was a mix of pride in what they were and sorrow in knowing the gulf that separated them from the rest of the galaxy was one that only they were interested in bridging.

 

“You aren’t afraid, never were. And you always know how to act around us,” Tup said softly, a stubborn hope in his brown eyes. She smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

 

“That’s because I can feel you all as individuals. Every Jedi worth a damn and who takes half a second can feel it,” she said, skirting around the fact that some Jedi didn’t take the time or didn’t care or both. “And I know you all have good, kind hearts.”

 

“Thank you, General,” Kix said, looking at his brothers before turning his honey gaze to her. “Sometimes, its good to hear that sort of thing. And we’ll work on it, being examples.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be the best damn example, everyone will think I’m the commander, not our Rex here,” Fives said, grinning and standing. Rex rolled his eyes.

 

“I’ll look forward to the day you put me out of a job, Fives,” Rex said, smirking. And after that, they all drifted away, though Rex sat next to her, keeping her company as she nursed her tea. They sat in companionable silence for a time, and a thought from earlier that evening wormed its way into the front of her mind.

 

“Rex,” she began, and he turned to regard her, his golden eyes less like a hawk’s now that they were alone and there was no misbehaving shiny to glare at. “What did you mean, about valuing hard work like the best of you? There was… something in you when you said that.”

 

He looked away at her question, and she quickly back-peddled.

 

“I don’t mean to pry, but I could feel an old grief there,” she said. Rex was a private man, and even with her he kept himself contained. He could relax and joke and tease with his brothers without a worry. But he could never unburden himself with them. So, she poked him now and again, if only so he didn’t explode one day.

 

“It’s alright,” he sighed and scooted back on the bench seat, straddling it to face her properly. “I was talking about Ninety-Nine. They might remember him, those shinies, they might not. He died, during the Battle of Kamino, the one where Fives and… Echo got promoted to ARC-trooper. He died _fighting_ , like a trooper, like a _vod_ , even though he was a defective and put on maintenance duty.”

 

She could feel the swirl of emotions in him now, the old grief and the pride and the loss and the love. Were he another man, he might cry, might vent in rage or sorrow, but this was Rex and his eyes were dry though that did not mean the anger or sorrow was absent from them. Reaching out, she slowly extended her hand, giving him time to wave her off, but he didn’t, so she gripped his hand tightly and let him continue speaking.

 

“He taught me that there was no such thing as a defective clone, at least not in body. That what it means, really means, to be a trooper is in how we act, not what we look like,” he said, his even voice belying a deep well of feeling. “That man had more bravery and kindness in him than anyone I had known until I met Skywalker, and then you.”

 

“Then we’ll make sure his example isn’t forgotten,” she told him, and he squeezed her hand back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Togruti” (Tolkien’s elvish):  
> Nar’him = fire ale
> 
> My apologies for the delay. Life things. And, to be honest, video games.
> 
> I am also open for requests. Think Shaak Ti got up to something? Or how is Obi-Wan handling the fall out of Maul and Mandalore and Satine? 
> 
> In other words, I'm juggling a lot of characters, and any plot bunnies would be deeply welcomed. 8D
> 
> (And I hope those who started "In Pursuit" for the Rex and Ahsoka feels like this opening.)


	2. At Lose Ends

Anakin lied back on his narrow bed in the _Resolute_ , listening the hum of the hyperspace engines. Normally, before Ahsoka’s trial, he would have found it soothing and drifted off to sleep easily. In this kind of peace, he could have found Padme or other beautiful things in his dreams. If the last mission had gone poorly, he knew he would have had nightmares, but so far Appo had proved himself to be a capable Commander. The man was no Rex, but he did the job well enough.

 

He didn’t regret telling Rex and the other senior troopers from the 501st to put in for a transfer to Ahsoka’s new command. He _did_ rest easier knowing that she had some of the best troopers in the whole army at her back. But he had spent the last two years of his life getting to know those men, and their absence was noticeable. The 501 st was still the best battalion, one of the lowest casualty rates, and another mission successfully completed.

 

But there was a distance, now, between him and his troopers that hadn’t been there before. They saw him as _General Skywalker_ more than anything else. Rex and Jesse and Kix, those who had known him the longest, they called him General on mission, but sometimes, in the late hours after a mission gone wrong, they called him _vod,_ a brother.

 

It had been a rare thing for a non-clone to be considered a brother, and Anakin had felt honored for it. And, if he was honest, he treasured those moments. Those moments of _belonging_ , because sometimes Anakin felt he belonged with the troopers more than he ever had among the Jedi.

 

His brothers were elsewhere now.

 

Like Obi-Wan was, off with his own battalion, saving the Galaxy from Separatists and Sith alike. But Obi-Wan still had Cody and Boil and the others from the 212th.

 

 _Not that I begrudge Obi-Wan that_ , he told himself, frowning and turning onto his side.

 

Or he did.

 

Just a little.

 

Though, if he were honest with himself, as he tried to be. Tried to be now, even though he and Obi-Wan still had not _talked_ as his former Master had wanted to. Too much happened after the trial for them to be able to find time to really hash out everything that had happened behind Obi-Wan’s back. But Anakin knew he had to try to be better than he had been.

 

He had to try to let go.

 

And he _had_ let go. He had let her go. And he had been so _proud_ of her, of his former Padawan as she had fought for her good name and her innocence. Proud of her accomplishments and her understanding of herself.

 

So much better than he had been at her age.

 

 _Hell, better than I am now_ , he mocked himself, and felt his face stretch into something that half smile half grimace.

 

But he missed her terribly.

 

It wasn’t very _Jedi_ of him, but he was trying for this whole honesty about his emotions thing, instead of hiding them away. Even if he could only be honest with himself.

 

And honestly, as they speed to another mission, further away from Coruscant and his wife, further away from Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and everyone who mattered to him personally, Anakin Skywalker felt lonely in a way he had not felt since he was a little boy. Lonely, and in the middle of a ship full of men ready to fight and die on his command, horribly alone.

 

It had been easy to be happy for Ahsoka after her trial, because she was still a Jedi, still a part of his life, but he could never adjust to having spacial distance not matter. Because now, he just wanted his Padawan, all his _vod_ , back.

 

Turning again, Anakin tried to twist away from these thoughts, tried to find peace in the love he had for his friends, for his wife, for his whole cobbled together family.

 

But it seemed like no matter how he turned, all he could see was the emptiness of his life, and the silence it contained.

 

* * *

 

In his chambers on Coruscant, Sheev Palpatine smiled. This was not the smile of the Chancellor of the Republic, that carefully cultivated grandfatherly image. Kind yet stern. No, this was the smile of his _true_ self: Darth Sidious.

 

At first, when Tarkin had bungled and lost the chance to kill or at least drive Anakin Skywalker’s annoying little apprentice away, he had been furious. But then the Jedi had made it all the easier for him by sending the little Togruta whelp on her own missions, taking her away from Anakin.

 

Leaving him alone.

 

And if there was one thing Anakin Skywalker feared, even more than being a slave, was being _alone_. Alone and forgotten and unloved.

 

But Anakin had proven oddly resilient lately, and so he had resorted to using the old connection he had forged between them when the man had been a boy. A bond as light as a feather, a fine spider-silk thread, but old. Its very age made it undetectable. It was simply a part of Anakin now, the thread that led to all sorts of interesting backdoors in the boy’s mind. And for all that it was a thin thread, it’s age and repeated use over the last decade made it stronger than it seemed. He could nudge Anakin’s mind in remarkable ways, and he was always on alert for instances to nudge Anakin into darker reactions than he might otherwise be inclined toward.

 

Thus, why he smiled, because at the moment Anakin Skywalker was vulnerable in ways he had not been in a long time. And there was no one around him who might notice the difference.

 

With a deft touch, Darth Sidious reached out and pulled on that string.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, running with the idea that Palps has at least been nudging Anakin since he was nine, if not outright mucking about.
> 
> Because why leave that to chance?


	3. Second Chances

Obi-Wan sat at a booth in Dex’s diner, aware that his old friend was keeping an eye on him. He had thought it prudent to warn Dex that a rather prickly quittance was going to be putting in appearance, if only for the fact that he rather liked Dex and the food here. It would be a shame to be banned because he had played this too close to the chest.

 

Besides, he was a member of the Council and had been able to make them see sense about this.

 

Then the bell rung and in walked Asajj Ventress, looking out of place in her bounty hunter’s kit as she stalked into the diner. Her eyes found him quick enough and she strode to his booth. As predicted, she sneered down at him.

 

“I am here, Kenobi,” she drawled. “Nothing said I had to sit and eat in this… establishment.” He managed to keep a smile off his face, but knew his eyes were dancing by Asajj’s frustrated eye roll.

 

“You don’t have to eat, but sitting would at least be more comfortable, and certainly be less conspicuous,” he said, and she glared at him as she sat down on the red synthaleather.

 

“Well, what is all this about?” she demanded. Obi-Wan considered the woman across from him for a moment. From Ahsoka’s account, she had helped the former Padawan to a terminal and covered her exit from a cantina that had been searched by security forces. It had not been much, less than an overwhelming show of aid, but it had been enough for Ahsoka to make certain promises. Promises that Obi-Wan had seen fulfilled.

 

But it was not that simple promise that brought him here. He could have sent the notice to Asajj easily enough, through the right channels, but he had been keeping an eye on the former Sith assassin. Her bounties were often straight forward, payment for services rendered, but every now and again something went wrong.   Wrong for her employer. He would hesitate to call it ‘do-gooding’, but it seemed that Asajj was not deaf to the suffering of others any longer.

 

It was not much.

 

But it could be a start.

 

“I thought I might deliver your pardon in person,” he said airily, as if it had been no great trouble to procure. Rather, it had taken Master Gallia and a few other Senators a bit of effort to put that through, and it had been conditional. And, oddly, he knew that a conditional pardon would put her at ease, whereas an unconditional one would make her instantly suspicious.

 

Producing the document, he handed it over to her for her inspection. Frowning, she snatched it from him and read it quickly. Then her lips twisted into a knowing smirk, as though she was reading exactly what she expected.

 

“My pardon has several conditions, I noticed,” she said fiercely, eyes glittering.

 

“Indeed it does. I thought we might discuss the best way to handle them, and I doubted you would be interested in meeting me at the Temple,” Obi-Wan said, keeping his tone gracious, and was rewarded with an affirmative huff.

 

“This is ridiculous, Kenobi. I will not follow you around like some _Padawan_ ,” she insisted. “And I am not interested in fighting your war. I want to make a living and have nothing more to do with either side, Jedi or Sith. Both are as bad as each other.”

 

“You can always refuse your pardon, Asajj,” he said softly, spreading his hands graciously. “I would not turn you in, and you could go about your business and your life in the way that you see fit. However,” he trailed off and tilted his head back, considering something.

 

“However?” she echoed, somehow making it a challenge. But then, this was Asajj Ventress, and she lived to be a challenge to others.

 

“I think you have the wrong impression of how my, what does the document call it? Ah yes, my supervision of you will go,” he said, and she went stock still then, focusing on him with that killer, predatory instinct, but there was something underneath that look, something but not something soft. No Asajj was never soft. All hard panes and sharp edges, and underneath her predatory gaze was a sliver of hope, small but lodged in her heart.

 

“You would not follow me around like a Padawan. Instead, you would be a special advisor to the 212th. Should you prove able to work with the troopers, I could see you working well with our ARC-troopers. They would certainly benefit from your talents and experience,” he said, and for all that he was trying to appeal to her ego, it was true. The image of a squad of ARC-troopers with a woman who was nearly as good as a Jedi Shadow would be something to behold. If anyone ever saw them, that is.

 

“But you should not feel compelled to fight. Your tactical knowledge would be most welcome, if that is all you were willing to give,” he continued, but he could see the idea settling into her mind. Asajj had always been like most Force-users: someone who craved purpose. And for some time her purpose had been to hate and kill. Then, betrayed, she had made her purpose herself.

 

Perhaps, she had seen how empty that purpose was, how small. Perhaps it had been encountering Ahsoka that had woken up something in the other woman, Ahsoka and her drive to help and care for others. Asajj would never be open-hearted and warm, but she might find in herself something more than the selfish or vengeful. Something grander and yet humble, something righteous and yet kind. Something beautiful, something light.

 

She held his gaze, her pale blue-grey eyes boring in his own, as though searching there for any duplicity, or, worse, any hint that he was laughing at her. But he was not, and he let her see, and he opened his shields. It might be too much for her to take in, to accept, but he would not be anything less than honest with this woman.

 

She blinked. For a moment, a heartbeat, he could clearly see the hope, hope unfettered, spark in her eyes.

 

She would never be a Jedi.

 

She had been too wounded to accept the Order and its strictures.

 

But she could be more, so much more, than a bounty hunter.

 

And he would help her be whatever she wanted to be.

 

“Very well, I accept,” she said, then straightened, the pride and ferocity back in force. “Do not think that I will keep quiet or behave like Jedi. I will do this on _my_ terms, Kenobi.”

 

“I never expected anything less, Asajj,” he said, smiling. She frowned and stood, looking down her nose at him, imperious and haughty once more.

 

“Send me a time and location of meeting,” she said. “I will go gather my things.” Then she stalked out of the diner, the little bell a cheery counterpoint to the Dathmoiri’s mood.

 

As she left, one of the men at the bar slid off a stool and joined Obi-Wan in his booth. Cody, regardless of that vicious scar around his eye, still managed to look like a soldier while dressed in the most unremarkable civilian clothes Obi-Wan had managed to talk the man into. It was something about the set of the shoulders, he thought.

 

“Sir, with all due respect, the men are going to have a fit when she shows up,” Cody said, looking uncomfortable saying even that much.

 

“I know, Cody. She has a certain reputation amongst the troopers that will be difficult to counter, and I doubt she will do herself any favors by holding to the abrasive aspects of her personality, but… I must try, Cody,” Obi-Wan admitted, looking past his loyal commander into the middle distance. Cody worked his shoulders and ducked his head, clearly feeling as though he had been rebuked.

 

Obi-Wan reached out and clasped a hand around the other man’s arm, and let his feelings show in his eyes.

 

“I am not upset with you, my friend,” Obi-Wan said, and Cody relaxed. Marginally. “This will be difficult for all of us, and you most of all. Do not think I am unaware of that. Know that you can always bring anything to me. I am here for you as well.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan swore the man had to physically restrain himself from saluting. Obi-Wan smiled warmly.

 

The past month had been unkind to his heart, he knew that.

 

First Satine, his beloved Satine. The woman he would have left the Order for, once… and still, he knew. The woman who had died in his arms and confessed her love, but all he had been able to do was to let her die, never hearing how he loved her. Then Ahsoka’s troubles, and finding out, to some degree, about Anakin’s growing darkness.

 

Worse, the pace of the war had kept him and Anakin from fully talking about the darkness Obi-Wan had seen in his former Padawan. And this was not the kind of conversation one could have over the holocomm. But then this chance, this opportunity to help Asajj Ventress had fallen in his lap, and Obi-Wan Kenobi saw something greater at play.

 

If he could help Asajj, he could help Anakin. He could show Anakin that no matter what someone had done, they were not beyond saving. And Asajj could find her own peace, and perhaps discover herself in the process.

 

And perhaps, then, Satine’s death would not hurt so much, if he could save those who still lived and had a chance to love. Because, Obi-Wan knew, those chances had all passed him by.

 

“Come on, then Cody,” he said, turning back to his commander, the man who had followed him through hell and back. “We have work to do.”

 

The trooper smiled, his eyes lighting up and the scar on his face obscured by the bright grin.

 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir,” Cody said, and together they left the diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry about the long time between updates. Been distracted by plotting some later parts of this series.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the snippets!


	4. Losing Touch

Mace Windu meditated in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, but still peace eluded him. He had always been able to _see_ , to _know_ when a turning point was upon the Jedi. _Shatterpoints_ , they were called. He could feel them in his blood and bones, resonating like a bell through the Force when he encountered one. A point in time where everything could change, if one but knew how to guide events. That gift had translated into a deft touch for feeling out other, less momentous, situations.

 

His gift, coupled with a better understanding of the Dark Side than most Jedi possessed, he had to face a terrible truth.

 

He had failed.

 

He had failed Ahsoka Tano.

 

He had failed the Jedi Order.

 

And, just as important, he had failed Barriss Offee.

 

Gritting his teeth against his own anger and frustration, he tried to sink down into a meditative state. He had to be better. He had to see with eyes unclouded, for all of their eyes had been clouded for so long.

 

The Dark Side was rising, growing, drawing around them like a stalking beast. If he let himself have flights of fancy, he would have said he could feel its greedy, hateful eyes narrowing in perverse delight. The Dark Side always waited, waited for them, for him.

 

But he would not let it win.

 

He was stronger, as all the Jedi must be stronger in these troubled times.

 

His thoughts turning in circles, again and again coming back to the need to be more than what they were, it begged the question: if they had be more than Jedi, what did that mean they would become?

 

It was a question he did not have the answer to.

 

Although he knew that not even Grand Master Yoda had all the answers, he had long been accustomed to being able to find answers. Particularly when the question was so important and cut to the very heart of what he, and what all Jedi, were.

 

There was another option, of course. There were always multiple options.

 

He could be losing his gift.

 

Losing touch with the Force in a deep and vital way.

 

Perhaps he had been led astray by the violence and glory of war. He knew he was no better than the others. He cared for the men of the 94th, cared for their well-being, their mental stability, and although only a good General looked after their troopers, he knew it was more than being a good General that motivated him. He could not look those brave men in the eye and say they had not changed him.

 

And again, there was the question: changed him into what?

 

Who was he now?

 

A Jedi Master?

 

A General?

 

Or was he neither. Had he lost the right to be either?

 

Taking a breath, he opened his eyes and took in the peaceful fountains and carefully crafted architecture. Once, it had been soothing. Now, it was a reminder of everything he might be losing touch with: serenity, peace, _faith_.

 

Sighing, he stood and tugged his robes straight.

 

He had not been able to meditate for as long as he would have liked, but the demands of the Republic weighed heavily upon his mind. So this would be all the meditation he would get today, it seemed.

 

Standing tall and squaring his shoulders, Mace Windu strode the halls of the Temple, attending to his duties while unanswered questions burned in the back of his mind.


	5. Gathering Forces

Padme sat on her lounge, for all appearances having a little get together with some of the youngest Senators in the entire Republic. Mon had already come into her own during Padme’s tenure in the Senate, but it had been a joy to watch Riyo take the reins and be more than a simple mouthpiece for her planet’s leadership, taking charge when she felt something important and moral was at stake.

 

And Lux. Every time Padme looked at the young man, she could not help but see his mother. Mina had been a proud woman, confident, capable and as deft a politician as Padme had seen. Some part of her wished Mina had managed to keep her people in the Republic. What a wonder the woman would have been when paired with Master Gallia.

 

For Mina’s sake, Padme had kept an eye on Lux, and now she decided to have a more direct hand in his Senatorial education. The young man was bright and passionate, but he lacked a certain finesse, which was evident even next to Riyo.

 

Then the door chimed and C-3PO announced their last guest: Bail Organa.

 

Bail entered the apartment and smiled, but Padme knew the look behind his eyes. He was astonished at the relative youth of those gathered here, and although no one else would see it, she saw his shoulders slump slightly. They had talked, a few times, about the waning passion, the loss of zeal for the ideals of the Republic amongst the Senators. It had been Bail himself who suggested that the defense of democracy was a young person’s game, that those who were older and wiser sought safety and their own interests.

 

She had teased him then, asking if he was so old as all that.

 

He had smiled, but there had been a troubled thing.

 

“Starting small for once, Padme?” Bail teased her now, and she stood to greet him, a quick peck on the cheek. Mon and Riyo both greeted him as well, old friends and allies by now. Lux, still somewhat awkward in his new position, rose and shook the older man’s hand. Padme hid a smile as Bail greeted Lux with all the sincerity he gave to older, more established Senators.

 

“I thought I would do something different for a change, just to keep you on your toes, old man,” she said with a sharp grin.

 

“Well, Padme, since we’re all here now, I don’t suppose you can enlighten us as to why you called us here,” Mon said dryly.

 

“Why, we’re here for a dinner party,” Padme said, putting on a bit of wide-eyed innocence, which set Riyo to giggling.

 

“Padme, the day you do anything for one reason alone, is the day I turn pink,” Riyo said, the young woman’s eyes dancing.

 

“Well, perhaps not just for that, but I have missed Bail’s cooking,” Padme said, giving her old friend, a man who was all but brother to her, a faux-demure glance. Bail threw up his hands in mock exasperation.

 

“I see what an old man is good for around here,” Bail said. “I don’t suppose any of you can actually help in the kitchen?” Riyo looked at Bail, clearly surprised.

 

“I wasn’t aware a Prince of Alderaan could cook,” the Pantoran said.

 

“Well, this Prince can,” Bail boasted, already rummaging around in Padme’s kitchen, getting out pots and pans from cupboards.

 

“It only makes sense. My mother…” he trailed off, and Padme only wanted to hold him then. But then, she had a weak spot for lonely motherless boys, it seemed. Then Lux shook himself and rocked back on his heels. “My mother insisted I know how to cook. ‘Lux!’ she said in that way she had, ‘you never know when you’ll have to do for yourself, and I’ll be damned if I raise a helpless person.’”

 

Lux smiled at the memory and Padme laughed, able to _hear_ Mina’s tone, that tough, brash voice with the undercurrent of humor.

 

“Well, it seems the men are cooking for the ladies tonight. Does that mean you’ll be dirtying your hands doing the dishes?” Bail asked as Lux entered the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves.

 

“And ruin my nails? Bail, you’re out of your mind,” Mon teased, leaning on the kitchen counter, displaying hands with completely unadorned nails. Laughing, Bail began to cook, Lux acting as an excellent assistant as she, Mon and Riyo watched a meal come together before their eyes.

 

As the nerf was being coated in a truly delicious smelling sauce before being grilled on a sizzling hot pan and the vegetables were being sautéed, Padme readied herself to speak. She knew she had been watched closely, ever since Ahsoka’s trial she had felt something different as she had gone about her life. As though something was watching from the shadows. She had not told Anakin. He would have overreacted, and her goal was to help him be _healthy_ , rather than allow them to hide one second longer than they had to.

 

She knew how much being a Jedi meant to her husband, but she had begun to wonder how good they really had been for each other, how much two people could live in the dark and not let that darkness into their own hearts. And how complicit she had been in Anakin’s own bad behavior.

 

A part of her writhed in embarrassment and remorse at all of it, but they would find away to move forward.

 

But dragging her mind back to the present, she knew that something was paying attention to her, something that might be put at ease only to see some Senator friends enjoying an evening meal and witty repartee.

 

“Bail is far too young to be senile, Mon,” Padme said, then pointed up and every one of them knew what that meant: they were being listened to.

 

“Ha!” Bail barked, his dark eyes dancing with delight. He might claim to not find clandestine politics exciting or interesting, but Padme knew her old friend flourished in such situations. “Thank you for the stirring defense, Padme. I don’t suppose you care to help just a touch more?”

 

“You hardly need _my_ help, Bail, but perhaps we might all consider paying a bit closer attention to the food, hm?” she asked, “After all, without basic nourishment, how are any of us going to thrive?”

 

“Are you suggesting some of us are… underfed?” Mon asked, eyebrow arching delicately, savvy enough to keep up with the double talk. Lux frowned, and Riyo stayed quiet, both of them taking a little longer to process the idea. But it was plain enough to Padme. Mon was asking if Padme thought the Republic itself was starving to death for a want of proper democratic values.

 

“Perhaps, we have forgotten what it is like to eat properly, with everything that is going on, and how much of a privilege that is, when so many are suffering,” Padme said, laying it on a little thick, but hoping that Lux and Riyo would see what she was getting at. She was rewarded with a bright light in both sets of eyes as they caught on. They both nodded.

 

“I saw first hand what it was like for people not to have much to eat,” Lux said, and she knew what he meant. How Onderon had suffered under tyranny. “Maybe we can help others remember what it is. How important it is to eat properly.”

 

“But how do we go about finding such people?” Riyo asked. “It is not an easy conversation to start, and so many different species have different ideas of what eating healthy is.” Padme smiled at the young woman, grateful for the insight. And she was right. There were different worlds out there, with kings, with democratic governments, with councils of elders, and more. Everyone had different motivations, needs, considerations, but they all had to be focused on the same goal.

 

Curbing the power that Palpatine had accumulated for himself.

 

Because that was what she meant by a lack of nourishment, a lack of democratic zeal. Tyranny seemed safe, seemed to protect at first, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as her one time ally and predecessor in the Senate grew in power by the day. And it had been her fault he had gained so much power.

No, not her fault in entirely, but she shared a portion of the blame.

 

And in this, she would do what she could to set things right.

 

Just like with Anakin.

 

Nothing could undo the things he had done, that _they_ had done. But they could alter course.

 

She hoped that it was not too late. Not too late for Anakin, not too late for the Republic, and, perhaps, not too late for herself.

 

“That is a very good point, Riyo. I believe we will need to do some research on the matter and talk about this again,” Padme suggested.

 

“A health committee, in the middle of a war?” Mon asked, naming their little cover on the spot. And Padme could not say she did not approve. Rather, she liked the name.

 

“It shows that we care for people, even in the middle of war. We must look to our own health if we are stand strong together,” Lux put in, and Padme felt a surge of pride for the boy, and hoped Mina could somehow know how much he had grown.

 

“I think that is exactly right, Lux. Your mother, she would be proud of you for thinking this way,” Padme told him, and Lux ducked his head, returning to plating the vegetables. Bail was putting the finishing touches on the nerf, and placing the spiced meat on the plates.

 

“I will do what I can to help, seeing as I am already part of the security committee. Of course, our army must also eat well. Perhaps I can look into helping our soldiers, clone and non-clone alike, gain a better understanding of looking after themselves,” Bail offered.

 

Padme nodded. There was more to do there, she knew. She wanted to put a clone trooper R&R bill through, but Bail told her now was not the time, and it gutted her to think that the clones were used so poorly. Though she was already planning to talk to the Admiralty about that. Ahsoka’s trial had netted her some contacts there, and she would use them if she had to.

  
But now was the time for a different task.

 

“However, I do hope our talk of business has ended,” Bail said, holding up plates that were as much works of art as they were food. “Because dinner is served.”

 

As they ate and talked of less momentous things, Padme felt a spark of hope, of real hope, that win or lose, the Republic would make it through this war. That they would not lose everything that they were in a mad rush for safety and defense. That democracy would triumph, and peace would be restored.

 

And, perhaps, that she would find the redemption for her own failings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go back and forth on how Padme felt about Anakin and why. Trying to walk a middle road, where she sees how she's not always really been the best for him. And he isn't necessarily the best for her.
> 
> And that the both might need different kinds of redemption.
> 
> But, that for all that, Padme is still a hell of a politician and someone who deeply cares about justice and democracy.


	6. Letters

Rex’s comm chirruped, jogging him out of his focus on finishing off the last of his reporting on the latest mission. Sitting back from the screen, he keyed up his comm and saw it was the channel the battalion commanders used. They all traded information, kept up with better tactics and practices, and, most often, tried to help each other figure out their Jedi when they were being very… _Jedi_.

 

But this one made him smile.

 

Not a fond smile, not necessarily. He might care about Wolffe, but his _vod_ was a prickly man at the best of times.

 

 _Rex_ , it began, a private message on the main channel, _how the karking hells do you look after such a small Jedi? And how the kriff is someone so small so loud and annoying? Stars! I think she annoys me ON PURPOSE. Why the fripping hell would she do that?!_

 

Pondering how to reply to that, there was another message. This time it was from Cody. Also a private message.

 

_Rex, you know I’d never say anything against General Kenobi, but he’s taken on a responsibility that I’m not sure he should. There’s no easy to say this, so I’ll stop walking carefully around the Saralac pit. Kenobi’s trying to REFORM Ventress. She’s attached to the 212 th now. … Don’t tell Wolffe._

 

Rex sighed.

 

He never thought he’d see the day when _his_ Jedi was the least troublesome. At least Bly, for all his affection for his General, had a Jedi that was stable and sensible.

 

Deciding he needed something a little stronger than _caf_ to answer these messages, he left his small office and made his way to the med bay. Kix kept a few bottles of some good stuff on hand. For medicinal purposes, by all accounts. Granted, it was used that way most of the time. But occasionally, the senior staff dipped into the stores. In trying times. Like right now.

 

Taking a bottle of something of middling strength, he wisely left Ahsoka’s Togruta alcohol alone, he sat down at Kix’s desk and poured himself a glass. This, he knew, was going to be interesting.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka frowned at her datapad. She, too, had a letter. It wasn’t from Scout or any of the other Padawans. They kept in contact, but with everyone back in the field, missives were fewer and further between.

 

No, this was from Barriss.

 

The Mind-Healers must have decided that Barriss had been well enough to read Ahsoka’s letter. They also must have decided that writing to Ahsoka would be good for Barriss’ recovery. Ahsoka couldn’t fault their reasoning. Making amends had to be an important part of becoming well again, but Ahsoka wasn’t sure if she was ready to read it.

 

She decided she needed a little liquid courage to read it. She knew that she probably shouldn’t drink and read this letter at the same time, but as the war dragged on it was getting a little too easy to drop into some of the habits the clones had. And fortifying one’s self with alcohol was something most clones learned how to do within a standard day of leaving Kamino. Banishing those thoughts from her mind, she made her way to the medical bay, only to find Rex already there, an empty glass on the desk and him muttering over his own data pad.

 

As if he could sense her presence, Rex looked up and saw her, his eyebrows raising in a subdued kind of surprise. She flashed him a quick, ever so slightly embarrassed at being caught grin, and took down a bottle of _nar’him_ and poured herself a glass.

 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she offered, trying to keep her tone light and teasing. He grunted and pushed back the chair, frowning at the datapad. She sat on the desk, crossing her legs underneath her, taking a sip of her drink.

 

“One’s not too bad,” he said, and gave her a smirk. “Wolffe’s terrified of Tai, though he won’t admit it. I think he’s actually worried he’ll mess up and lose his General’s Padawan, but it comes out, well…. It’s Wolffe. But she is winding him up on purpose. Thankfully, you never did that to me,” he said, giving her a significant glance. She barked a laugh.

 

“No, I saved all of that for Anakin,” she told him brightly. “So you’re telling him to ignore it, I assume, until she gets bored?”

 

“Got it in one,” he said, smiling slightly.

 

“What’s the other one?” she asked, her head tilting to the side, her blue eyes watching him carefully. He sighed.

 

“General Kenobi’s secured Ventress’ pardon,” he said, then drew a breath. “On the condition that she sticks close to him. So she’s now attached to the 212th.” Ahsoka’s eyes widened, not needing to be told how well _that_ would go over.

 

“Wolffe can never, ever know,” she said, and Rex laughed darkly.

 

“That’s what Cody said,” he told her, and she nodded.

 

“Poor Cody, how’s he handling this?” she asked. Rex shrugged.

 

“About as well as can be expected. I’m not sure if I can offer him any real advice, but I can listen. He’s got to keep the peace between the _vod’e_ and Ventress, and it’s a stress he didn’t need,” Rex growled. “I know you Jedi like to help people, but…”

 

“But sometimes that help costs other people something,” Ahsoka finished for him. “It’s all a balancing act, Rex, and we don’t always get it right, you know.”

 

“At least you admit it,” he allowed, sitting back, and now he was watching _her_ carefully. Inclining his head toward her, he asked: “What about you?”

 

She looked down at the datapad resting in her lap. With a quick motion, she downed the rest of the _nar’him_ and set the glass down on the desk by her knee. She didn’t see Rex’s worried expression, but she could feel a swell of concern from him, seeing how easily she downed the alcohol now.

 

“It’s from Barriss,” she said. “Haven’t read it yet.”

 

The silence stretched between them then. She thought Rex might have some idea what she and Barriss had been to each other. What Barriss had been to Ahsoka. A dear friend, yes, but also the first lover she had ever had. There had been a few other dalliances, Padawans almost expected to… experiment. But Barriss had been Ahsoka’s first.

 

It shouldn’t matter that much, she had told herself time and time again.

 

But it seemed to.

 

“Do you want to read it?” he asked, voice soft. She looked back up at him, and he looked nothing but concerned.

 

“Yes and no,” she said, sighing. “I want to forgive her, I want to move past this. I want my friend back, but… there’s no getting back that person. Whoever Barriss will become, she’ll never be the same, and I don’t know if I’ll ever trust her the same way again. If I read this, it’d be good. We could both move on, and maybe I can forgive her, and I think she might need my forgiveness. But if I read this, I accept that my friend, who I once knew, really is gone.”

 

Rex looked down at his hands, something he did whenever he was really thinking about something. Then he looked up at her again, his golden eyes thoughtful.

 

“I don’t think the question is if you will or won’t read it. I know you, Ahsoka. You’ll read it. But… you don’t have to read it by yourself. I’m not… I’m not suggesting I read it, too, but that if you need a friend to be here while you do, well. I’m here,” he said, and Ahsoka wondered what she had done to have the friendship of someone like Rex. Some people would look at him and see a killing machine, or a tough Commander, a man of war and violence who would do much to protect his brothers.

 

But it was in moments like this she saw the man who Rex was underneath all the genetic tinkering and the programming, the man that no one could take from him. Her heart felt full to bursting at his kindness and care, and she smiled, bright with only a little sadness at the edges.

 

“Make you a deal. Be here for me while I read this,” she said, waving the datapad between them, “and I’ll help you with Wolffe and Cody.”

 

“It’s a deal,” he said, grinning, and taking comfort in his solid presence, she turned to her own letter and the hope that she could forgive the woman who had betrayed her.

 

* * *

 

Anakin looked at the letters he had sitting in his queue. There were several from Ahsoka, a few from Obi-Wan, and, most precious, one from Padme. He knew they were reaching out, and he had read their letters several times. Ahsoka was flourishing with the 332nd, and he felt so proud of her. Obi-Wan, apparently, had taken on another project, another _pathetic lifeform_ , as he had once said to Master Jinn. But Obi-Wan had learned well the value of saving those whom everyone else would give up on. That the person being saved was Ventress seemed to not phase Obi-Wan in the slightest, though that certainly put Anakin’s hackles up.

 

And a few other things, besides.

 

He tried, desperately, not to feel like he was being left behind. Ahsoka was out there and learning and growing and coming into her own. And while he knew had a hand in that growth, where she went now was all on her. It would not necessarily include him.

 

And Obi-Wan helping Ventress… Anakin recognized the stirrings of jealousy in his heart. Had Obi-Wan taken another Padawan, it might not have been so bad, after his own experiences in guiding a Padawan. But Ventress? A woman who had been Sith, who had a darkness all her own? Why, he wondered, was Obi-Wan helping her when Anakin still needed him?

 

Clenching his teeth, eh focused on what Obi-Wan actually said. Words of hope for Anakin, noting that no one was so dark that the could not find the light again, and that once they were able to talk _in person_ , they would do so and at length. It was all soothing words and no doubt well meant, but Anakin had not developed the patience the Jedi so prized. Rather, once free, it seemed like he wanted everything _right now_ and _forever_.

 

At least Padme only offered kind words and an open heart. She spoke of keeping the spirit of the Republic alive, against the fear mongering, and, in the cypher they had developed, she reminded him of her love for him. Hidden in the dry, political jargon, her love shone out for him, and he drank it up like a man dying of thirst.

 

Anakin knew something in him was growing darker. Something was getting _worse_. More possessive, more jealous, and he knew, he _knew_ that the tighter he held to things, the quicker they would slip his grasp. He knew, but he could do nothing, only watching from behind his own eyes as his heart became a desperate, aching thing.

 

Letters were supposed to keep those distant close, but at the moment, he could only see the spaces between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has problems. Many of them. Oh dear.
> 
> But yay for kind of cute Rex and Ahsoka? >_>


	7. Heart's Children

Shaak Ti, Master of the Jedi Order, had not necessarily been a Jedi traditionalist as others were. That said, she had often seen the importance of holding to important customs. Those of the people who birthed her and the people who had raised her. She did her best to pass on the customs of the Togruta to other Jedi from Shili, and she smiled recalling Ahsoka’s own practice hunt going awry and the girl coming back with an akul easily four times her size.

 

She had taught Ahsoka the songs and dances, as best as she could, the stories and importance of clan to their shared people. Shaak had also done her best to make Ahsoka see how the _Jedi_ were her clan now. That clan was more than blood and bone, but also custom and shared experiences.

 

But as Jedi, there were also expected to let go. Let go of tightly held clan bonds, to give of their hearts freely while never making claims on the heart of another or letting another make similar claims.

 

Even after losing two former Padawans, so close after being Knighted, Shaak Ti had managed to walk that line, between bonds of clan and hunt and the detached compassion of the Jedi. But war changed much, changed the landscape of the galaxy and the landscape of her heart and soul.

 

Because, for all that she had been sent to Kamino to investigate the mystery of the clones while also overseeing their training, they had captured her heart. Their bright, eager eyes tugged at instincts long dormant, and their bravery made her want to trill to the stars for their glory and heroism.

 

And it had started so small, that she had not noticed until it was too late. While the clones might, ostensibly, belong to the Republic, the she certainly belonged to them in turn.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome to Kamino, Master Ti,” Rao Su said, and gestured to one of the clones standing at her side. He looked to be a human boy of fifteen, but she knew he was only seven standard years old. She had fought with his elder brothers on Geonosis not long ago, but seeing this young version sparked something in her. “Give your belongings to this one, and I can provide you with a tour of the facility.”

 

“Thank you, but as a Jedi I only have what I can carry myself,” Shaak told the Kaminoan stiffly. The young clone cadet stiffened, and she felt a sliver of fear in the boy, and she saw that for all his accelerated growth, he was only a boy still. She turned to him and smiled kindly. “I thank you for your willingness to help me, however, young one. No offense is intended, and I would know your name.”

 

“They do not have sanctioned names,” Su said, large eyes narrowing darkly. “They have designations, though they named themselves. We were, unfortunately unable to stop them. It was too widespread, but seemed to enhance unit functionality, so the unexpected individuality was tolerated.”

 

Shaak Ti felt another twist of revulsion in her gut, but she kept her lips from curling in a snarl, the snarl of a huntress who would stand between her young and an akul. At the time, she did not consider it important, only that these _younglings_ were being kept from being _themselves_.

 

She might abhor the practice and necessity of the clone army, but she would be damned before she stopped them from growing as _people_.

 

So she smiled thinly, her dark eyes glittering, and she could see the boy watch her closely, taking in her confrontation with one who, once, had been the ultimate authority in his life. However, rather than directly confront Su directly, she simply went around the Kaminoan, and the boy was undoubtedly paying close attention to the tactic.

 

“I would very much like to know your name, as I foresee us working together. Names are rather helpful, aren’t they, and more fun than numbers,” Shaak said, and she saw that appealed to the boy. He was fifteen and seven at the same time, she forced herself to remember.

 

“My brothers call me Hook, sir,” he said, coming to attention and looking like the perfect cadet while his eyes smiled.

 

“Ah, there is a story there, Hook, I can tell,” she told him, her smile all for him now. “Perhaps you can tell it while we tour the facility. I would greatly appreciate having you with me.”

 

Shaak could feel the annoyance and frustration oozing off of Su, and Shaak knew she was playing a dangerous game. She had originally intended to play it straight, keep her distance, and earn the Kaminoan’s trust so she could move freely. But then she had seen the boy, and she could not stand there and pretend that he was anything other than a boy.

 

A boy.

 

In _her_ care.

 

It was only later, in the quiet of her own quarters that Shaak Ti realized that she had adopted over a million men and boys in her heart, and that her clan had just expanded exponentially.

 

* * *

 

Hook had proven to be invaluable. She had won his trust that day, and word had spread. By the end of the first year of the war, she knew what the cadets called her: _buir_. Parent, _mother_ , in the language of their progenitor. None of them called her that openly, she knew how dangerous that would be, but she could feel their affection for her.

 

Every bad simulation she stopped.

 

Every clone she made sure got a second chance.

 

Every smile and moment of kindness.

 

They had assigned Hook to her as an assistant. The commander of the city, Kevar, also reported to her directly, and between the two of them she had an ear to all clone gossip. But Hook had been the closest to her.

 

It was through Hook that she had learned about Ninety-Nine.

 

The ‘defective’ clone stood before her now, his back hunched and his skin wrinkled and old before even _his_ time. Something had gone wrong with his accelerated aging, going out of control. He would be dead in a matter of years, a fraction of a fraction of a life.

 

“Hook tells me you work maintenance,” she said carefully. Although she had not completely taken Hook into her confidence, to do so would have been too dangerous, he had spent enough time around her to know that she had dual motives for being at Kamino. Knew, and kept silent. She had to be much more careful with the others, especially one that lived on the knife-edge such as Ninety-Nine.

 

“Oh, I do, sir, and it is an honor to keep this facility clean for my brothers,” he said brightly. And Shaak’s heart broke to see his love for his brothers so clear. He, like all the others, had an overwhelming desire to serve. Unable to serve in battle, he found what pride he could in what he did. In the past, he had been tormented by other clones, but Hook told her of a pair of clone cadets who stood up for their brother, and Ninety-Nine had been untouchable ever since. Teased, perhaps, but never harmed.

 

“It is a task you perform admirably,” she said, and he straightened, as much as he could, with pride. “I assume that you know the ins and outs of the facility well, yes?”

 

“Oh yes, sir! I know every nook and cranny,” he said and then laughed. “I bet I even know about the places the Long-Necks forgot.”

 

Smiling, she felt that some trust had been built already, if he called the Kaminoans ‘Long-Necks’ in front of her. She found it distasteful, using him like this, but to save the clones, she had to know more about them. And she wondered, briefly, when it became less about helping the Jedi understand the clones and more about saving them. But then she put the thought aside and focused on the task at hand.

 

“That being the case, we must accept that Kamino is a vulnerable place in this war. If we’re ever attacked, we must have an accurate map of the city. Do you think you can do that for me, Ninety-Nine? A map only for me, you understand. The Kaminoans, they do not understand battle, as such, and I am the General here,” she said, letting herself smile, her sharp teeth showing.

 

“Of course, sir! And clearly, the less people who know of your plans, the better. Most of the Long-Necks don’t care for politics, just the project, but you never know, eh?” he said, his dark eyes glittering at the shared secret.

 

“Well reasoned, Ninety-Nine,” she said, praising him, and he smiled so brightly as to break her heart. He was more correct than he knew about not knowing who to trust in this place, this place of deception and shadows and secrets.

 

“Then I shall not detain you any longer. If you have anything, pass it on to Hook,” she said, and the failed trooper saluted before he left.

 

And that nearly undid her.

 

* * *

 

After Ahsoka’s trial, Shaak returned to Kamino, more determined than ever to get to the bottom of the mystery of the clones. The war was spiraling into darker and darker places, and something in her recoiled at the idea of any more of her sons sacrificed to this madness.

 

Hook greeted her as always, nine now and to all appearances nearly a man grown.

 

“How was Coruscant, General Ti?” he asked politely as always, escorting her back to her rooms, taking her single, small bag. She had started using one, saying it contained her cultural items (it did, but that was an excuse), to ensure that he always had a reason to meet her.

 

“Hectic,” she replied dryly. “If you would share a cup of tea with me, I could tell you about it all.”

 

“As you say, General,” he said evenly, ever aware that in Kamino they were never unobserved. Save in her rooms. Though, after the door closed and Hook turned on the scanner, it was always prudent to be very, very sure.

 

“We’re clear,” he said as the device beeped happily and the lights shone green.

 

“What I have missed?” she asked, and Hook gave her his report. Ramping up production, cutting corners with training, and Shaak knew she would have a fight on her hands. Ever since the Battle of Kamino, her investigations into the mystery of the clones had stalled. Now, it was a desperate rear-guard to see them well trained before sending them out to fight and die.

 

“And…” he started to say and looked away. Then he squared his shoulders and drew himself up. It was a common habit with her boys, never easy with expressing themselves with non- _vod’e_ , even with her. Though she knew a few of her fellow Jedi had crafted deep rapport with a few particular troopers.

 

“I’ve been ordered to stop serving as your assistant. They let me have this last one, but I’ll be shipping out in a year, and I need more time with my squad, they said.”

 

Shaak Ti felt like the bottom had been cut out from underneath her.

 

“I’ve told Commander Kevar,” Hook went on. “He has some idea of what we do, and he can help you. Maybe assign you someone who will be around for sure, though I’ve been assessing possible replacements. Cadets who are… well, cadets who are less _programmed_ than others.”

 

“No,” she said softly, then looked him in the eye, and spoke with all the ferocity of a huntress, blooded and crowned: “ _No._ ”

 

Hook, her boy, her _son_ , smiled grimly.

 

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to form attachments,” he said, teasing her, but she refused to let him avoid this. And she could not avoid it any longer.

 

“Hook, you are the son of my heart, and should battle come upon us, I will not stop you from fighting. You are a warrior, and I respect that,” she said sharply, holding her gaze with her own. “But that does not mean I will give you up so easily. _Clan_ is worth fighting for. You will be transferred to Kevar’s battalion, and this is the end of it.”

 

“ _Buir_ ,” he began softly, “You _can’t_. They already think I’m too close to you. It’ll just be more suspicious. You can’t do what you need to do for all my brothers if you focus on me. We both know that.”

 

“Nothing is ever certain,” she said with a smile, her mind already turning it over. “It took a long time to build our trust, our relationship, and I would have to start again with another. Neither your brothers nor I have time for that. I will find a way, _ore’ion_ ,” she told him, using her own people’s words as he used his. _Heart’s son_.

 

“So this is a purely tactical choice, then?” he asked her, skeptical. She shook her head.

 

“No, it is not. And I am tired of pretending that such things are possible,” she told him, and for the first time in two years her heart _sang_. She might love her sons, and this one in particular, and she could let them go. She let thousands of them go at a time, and one day she might have to watch her boy die, to hold him as the light left his eyes. She could accept that.

 

But it would be on _their_ terms. Not because of fear.

  

She wondered if this made her a bad Jedi. Certainly some of her fellow Masters on the Council would say so. But then, there was Plo, who loved his troopers as sons, and called them such openly. There was Obi-Wan who wrecked himself for his men, and Aayla who always made the smart choice, but never, ever risked anyone needlessly.

 

No.

 

This was what made them _excellent_ Jedi, she decided. What Jedi were supposed to be. To walk that line between love and attachment, to give and receive in equal measure.

 

“Thank you, _buir_ ,” Hook said, disbelief and hope and love in every line of his face. “I… I love you, too.”

 

“Was that so hard, _ad_?” she asked, using his word this time. Perhaps it had been talking to Captain Rex, in seeing his devotion to Ahsoka and Anakin, in seeing how the Captain had placed his heart in the little huntress’ delicate hands. But had she not seen that, maybe she would not be saying these things now, knowing the importance of what some clones never learned on their own. Maybe she would have not understood what she had been teaching the clones all a long, more than tactics or socialization. She had been teaching them how to accept and give love.

 

And perhaps there was no greater lesson in all the starry universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little exploration of Shaak's time on Kamino and what she learns there. Not what she was expecting, but maybe after seeing Rex jump after Ahsoka... Shaak could admit some things she couldn't otherwise.
> 
> Mando:  
> Ad = child/son/daughter  
> Buir = parent/father/mother
> 
> "Togruti"  
> Ore'ion = Heart's son


	8. Perspectives

Zonder had worked with many Jedi over the years. He had often been trusted to investigate matters on Corcscant with minimal supervision, giving him a wide range of expertise, skills, and contacts. And in spite of all the strangeness he had seen (and on the city-planet, there were _a lot_ of strange things), Kit Fisto, his new Master, puzzled him the most.

 

He was an affable man by all accounts. A man with an easy smile and sunny disposition.

 

But that was not _all_ there was to Kit Fisto.

 

Zonder had felt it when they had established a training bond.

 

Exactly what else was beneath that smile, Zonder couldn’t say. Master Fisto had been quick to move on, their next assignment taking them to a nearby sector to support Master Secura. That also happened with some regularity, Zonder noticed.

 

Regardless, Zonder had many questions for his Master, questions that he knew the other man would not necessarily answer head on.

 

Zonder _liked_ knowing things, understanding them. It was what made him a good investigator.

 

* * *

 

“Master,” Zonder began as they left another assignment with Master Secura, “what do you think of the clone troopers?” Master Fisto half turned in the ship’s cockpit, a smile drawing up one corner of the man’s mouth.

 

“Why do you ask, Padawan?” Fisto asked lightly, doing, as he often did, which was to turn questions around on those who asked.

 

“Because all the Jedi think of them differently. Since my own association with them on Rodia, I have found them to be brave, thoughtful men, and I lament I did not know them until that mission,” Zonder said truthfully. His previous master had been to keep the peace on Coruscant, but now he was trust out into the middle of a war.

 

“They are brave men,” Fisto agreed, but there was a hesitation in his voice, and a twist in his Force signature, gone almost as quick as it had appeared.

 

“I am glad you agree, Master,” Zonder said, as though he had not seen something Fisto kept close to his heart. They flew on in silence, then, the bright blue of hyperspace all around their small ship. There would be more time for questions later.

 

* * *

 

They had just returned from helping Master Koon, and it was good to see Tai flourishing. Since his brief scare with thinking her dead, he had found a surmising fondness for the brash girl. And he had tried, with some difficulty, to not let Commander Wolffe see him laugh when Tai managed to hit another nerve.

 

But now, in the privacy of the ship he shared with his Master, Zonder smiled thinking of it. How vibrant and alive the small girl was, and how she seemed to bring the best out of her troopers.

 

Except Wolffe, of course.

 

“You are amused, Zonder,” Fisto said, his own voice tinged with humor, a reflection.

 

“I am, Master, though it is not good for me to be amused at Commander Wolffe’s discomfort,” Zonder admitted. Fisto let out a hearty guffaw.

 

“Commander Wolffe, according to Plo, is a man who needs to be made uncomfortable form time to time,” Fisto told him.

 

“Master Koon cares very much for his men, doesn’t he?” Zonder asked.

 

“Very much,” Fisto said, nodding, a touch of sadness in his voice now, and Zonder filed that information away for later.

 

* * *

 

Kit Fisto was not stupid, nor was he unobservant.

 

He knew that the quick grin and laid-back nature that he had put people at ease. It also made people think that he could not see what was right in front of him. To have his new Padawan credit, Zonder was not being obvious with his questions. Yet, they all danced around the same point: why are not in charge of a battalion? Do you not care for the clones?

 

And, perhaps the question those questions obliquely asked: _Why did you take me on if you prefer to be alone?_

 

Kit supposed that Zonder deserved those answers, especially because the young Selonian did not push for them out right.

 

* * *

 

Zonder was crouched on a rise, overlooking the efforts of the 94th as they distributed supplies to the civilian populace. He sensed his Master making his way up the hill, and caught his scent not long after. Turning, he faced Kit Fisto, who for once lacked his nearly trademarked grin.

 

“You have asked many questions of me, my Padawan,” Fisto began, sitting back on his heels beside Zonder on the hilltop.

 

“Only to understand you better, Master,” Zonder began, not wanting to give the impression that he had been _prying_. No, not that. Trying to understand. But Fisto held up a hand to forestall him.

 

“I know, Zonder. And so, now that I have answers for you, I can provide them,” he said, expression brightening slightly. Zonder felt instantly at ease, glad he had not overstepped himself nor caused undue emotional stress for his Master.

 

So Zonder waited for Fisto to speak.

 

“We Jedi are not warriors, you understand. We were never meant to be warriors. We fight only to protect the peace, but the difference between that task and a warrior becomes blurry in war time, I have noticed,” Fisto said, his large, black eyes going distant.

 

“This war is _making_ us warriors,” Fisto said, voice flat, disapproval clear. “The reason I have not taken on a battalion is because I have seen what that does to a Jedi. They see the troopers bleed and die and fight and glorify victory, because some things are too Mandalorian to ever program out. They are not to blame, you understand. It is not their fault. They cannot help how or why they were made. You have spoken truly. They are brave men, and kind if given the chance to be so. But they only know war, only can see through the eyes of a warrior, and in order to be with them, a Jedi must become a warrior as well. I have seen what happens when a Jedi takes to heart the warrior’s code.”

 

Zonder did not know what to say to that.

 

There were so many threads, so many ideas, all caught up together in an ideal of what a Jedi should be, and currently could not be.

 

“I will meditate on what you have told me, Master,” Zonder said honestly. Fisto smiled at him then.

 

“I know you will, my Padawan. It is why I took you on in the first place. You have in you a patience that few possess. I believe that patience and understanding will win the day, not blasters,” Fisto declared. “But for now, blasters are all we seem to have.”

 

As they watched the 94th continue to hand out supplies to a populace that had been nearly wiped out by Separatist forces, Zonder saw that his Master was right. And wrong.

 

But then, as Zonder knew from his investigations, no one ever had the whole truth, only a part of it. So now Zonder had Kit Fisto’s truth, and perhaps he could begin to find his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope Kit read well! He's easily someone I'm still learning how to write, and any con/crit is appreciated. :)


	9. Standing Up

Ekria felt her new master’s displeasure through the Force, a brief flutter before it was gone, released like a little bird into the wide sky of Felucia. She watched Master Secura closely as the woman sat back from the data pad, a studiously blank expression on her face. Ekria had been learning Secura’s expression and moods, doing her best to be a good Padawan, to not let the other woman down.

 

Commander Bly had been helpful for that. The man seemed to know every last one of Aayla Secura’s moods and expressions by heart, and while she knew that some troopers worried about her slowing them down, Bly had accepted her as part of the battalion without batting an eye.

 

So Ekria thought quickly, and matched the mood and expression to a rare one for her master: unhappy trepidation.

 

 _What, after everything she had been through, could make her new master on edge like that?_ Ekria wondered.

 

She must have been thinking that a bit too loudly, because in a moment Master Secura was herself again and turned to face the Padawan, brow raised in amused inquiry.

 

“Is something troubling you, Ekria?” she asked in her lilting accent.

 

“Not as such, Master,” the Barolian girl said truthfully. “But something does seem to be troubling you.”

 

“It seems we are to be receiving help for this next mission,” Secura said, and that made Ekria very confused. Normally Master Fisto, and now Zonder, come to help their battalion if they had a mission that required it. Normally such news induced smiles and a pleased happiness at seeing a good friend. She wondered if something had gone wrong between them, but then Secura clarified.

 

“Kit, it seems, is rather busy helping Plo, so we are being sent my old master,” Secura said, that trepidation fluttering on the edges of their training bond, and the Twi’lek’s jaw clenched. Ever so slightly. “Quinlan Vos.”

 

Ekria didn’t know what to say to that. She had heard that Vos had single handedly rescued and brought Secura to the Temple, had become her Master, and that they had been an excellent duo. Something must have gone wrong, if Secura was not happy to see the man who had helped her become a Jedi.

 

“We’ll need to warn Bly,” Secura said, dark eyes serious.

 

 _Yes,_ Ekria decided, _something had gone very wrong._

 

* * *

 

“Aayla,” Vos said, his tone short and clipped. Ekria could sense the tension in the man, like he was trying to be on his best behavior, but it was a struggle.

 

“Quinlan,” Secura said, just as brief. Then she turned to Ekria, and Ekria stepped forward slightly. “This is my Padawan, Ekria. She will take a squad as well on this mission.”

 

Ekria tried not to wilt under the gaze of Quinlan Vos. His gaze wasn’t hard, like Mace Windu’s, or as piercing as Master Yoda’s could be. But there was something else in it, something Ekria didn’t like.

 

“Master Vos,” she said, bowing briefly as was proper, but then he surprised her. She had been expecting him to be harsh, if her master was so reserved. Instead, Vos smiled.

 

“You’re tougher than you look, if you’re keeping up with Aayla,” he said, and Ekria wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. Then he saw his eyes track to Commander Bly, who stood unobtrusively behind them, his presence more contained than usual.

 

“See you’re still letting the clones in on the important stuff,” Vos said, his disapproval clear.

 

“They are trained in tactics,” Secura countered, eyes glittering, as if to say she only needed a reason.

 

Vos shrugged, giving ground.

 

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, and strode into the command center. Secura breathed in deep before letting it out. Ekria wasn’t sure what to do, but then she didn’t need to because Bly did. He simply stepped close to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

 

“The men are prepared, General, we’ll be alright,” he said and for a second Ekria wasn’t sure she was supposed to be seeing this.

 

“I know, Bly, but I’m still sending Ekria with you,” she said, a dry amusement in her tone now. “I’d rather not dangle temptation in front of you.”

 

Bly chuckled.

 

“Always thinking of us, General. You’re one of the good ones,” he said and she gave him a sad smile then. More things Ekria didn’t understand, didn’t know. More things to ask Bly later.

 

* * *

 

The mission had gone… okay.

 

Ekria had Bly and their squad had gotten through enemy lines and she had sliced into the droid commands with a speed that probably shouldn’t have been possible. Master Secura and Master Vos had led a two pronged attack. Vos has eventually worn her master down and gotten the more dangerous part, the bait, drawing out the enemy and pulling them out of position.

 

Master Secura had to wait, had to wait and hear her men die as Vos took risks Ekria knew her master would not have. Ekria had blocked out her master’s feelings; she had to get a job done, but she had not been able to ignore it completely.

 

Because while Master Secura knew that losses would happen, she did everything in her power to keep the minimal.

 

Vos was not similarly inclined.

 

He was not wasteful, he was not callous or cruel like Krell had been. But was not careful.

 

“Master,” Ekria said softly, approaching the Twi’lek woman carefully. Aayla Secura certainly held to Jedi calm, to serenity in the face of emotion, but to think that she did not feel at all would have been so very wrong. Because she had a responsibility to these men, they both did, and in a sense they had betrayed that trust today.

 

Master Secura turned to face her Padawan, the girl’s expression and presence in the Force cautious, concerned. And Aayla Secura decided she had enough of being quiet. That she could no longer ignore her disagreement with her former master about the treatment of the clones. Not any longer.

 

That the troopers deserved better of her.

 

Bly deserved better.

 

Her Padawan deserved better. Deserved to see that a Jedi had to stand up for what was right, even if it was against another Jedi and their Master. She was to set an example for Ekria, and it would be the worst kind of example to keep quiet when she knew that words needed to be said.

 

“Come with me, Ekria,” Master Secura said sharply, and Ekria came to attention at the strength of the woman’s voice, which had been oddly absent since Vos’s arrival. The Twi’lek strode to where Vos was getting ready to board his ship and leave, Padawan travelling in her wake.

 

Ekria also noticed Bly tracking their progress and getting his brothers to vacate the area.

 

“Vos,” Aayla said as the man turned around, that sardonic expression on his face for only a moment until she finished, “we’re done.”

 

“What? You don’t get to decide that. We’re at war, if you haven’t noticed, and you might need me again,” he said.

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do get to decide that,” she said, holding her ground. “I will always be grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I will not tolerate how you treat the troopers. They are _men_ , Vos, not tools, and I cannot allow you to bring harm to the men who are under _my_ care.”

 

Vos’s expression became thunderous in an instant, and Ekria wanted to take a step back, to get away from this, but she knew where she belonged. She sent a wave of support to her master, of gratitude for showing her how to be strong in this way. Another thing Ekria hoped to live up to.

 

“Grateful? This is how you show it? By choosing _clones_ over me?” he asked, voice dangerously quiet. “I rescued you, I raised you. And I have no idea where this is coming from.”

 

“No, no you really don’t,” Secura said, almost sounding sad now, as if she had finally seen something that had long eluded her. “But I will request that you not be assigned to me in the future. We need not see each other again, Vos. In fact, I believe I would prefer that.”

 

With that, Aayla Secura turned on her heel and marched away from the man who had been father to her in all but blood. Ekria only got an echo of what her master was feeling as she followed the other woman back to the command tent.

 

Had they not been Jedi there likely would have been tears as Quinlan Vos cursed her master’s soft heart and softer head, only stopping when the man boarded his ship and left in a roar of afterburners and distain projected clearly through the Force.

 

Instead, Master Secura turned to Ekria, eyes clear and a triumphant grin tugging the corners of mouth upwards.

 

“Thank you, Ekria,” Secura said, and once again she felt off balance.

 

“For what Master? What did I do?” she asked.

 

“For being here. For giving me a reason to do what I should have done long ago. Quinlan Vos is not an entirely bad man, but he is not always a good one either, and in this I struggled. But I could not stay quiet, because if you saw me stay quiet, _you_ might be tempted to stay quiet when you saw injustice,” Secura explained. “Without you, my Padawan, I might have chosen differently. And your support was much appreciated as well.”

 

Ekira bowed, unsure what else to do, her emotions getting the better of her. She tried to let them go into the Force and was partially successful.

 

“I am glad to have been a help to you, Master,” she said, then straightened to see Secura smiling at her broadly now.

 

“You are a greater help than you know, Ekria,” Secura said, the beginnings of a deep affection in her eyes.

 

“General!” Bly called before entering the command center. “You alright? I couldn’t keep the men from seeing or hearing that, but I will say morale is at an all time high.”

 

Secura smiled beatifically.

 

“I am well, Bly. Better than I have been in a long time,” Secura said. Then Bly turned to Ekria.

 

“What about you, Commander? You alright? I know we talked about Vos, but its another thing to stand up to him,” the trooper said, his concern plain, and Ekria was glad all over again that she helped her master this day. These men deserved so much more than what they had, but they gave their all for the Republic and for their Jedi.

 

“I’m okay, Bly, thank you for asking,” she said, feeling lighter by the second. He nodded at her, smiling.

 

“Well, I say we have a couple of victories to celebrate, then,” he said. “Don’t miss out on a good clone celebration, Commander.”

 

“I don’t suppose Trooper-ball will be involved?” Ekria asked, and Bly’s grin got even wider. So did Master Secura’s. Bly turned to his General, a delighted gleam in his eyes.

 

“We got a good one, eh, General?” he said, and Master Secura’s grin echoed her trooper’s.

 

“We did indeed, Bly, we did indeed.”

 

Ekria wasn’t sure about all the undercurrents she felt around her master. Certainly there was a connection to Master Fisto and Commander Bly as well. There would be lingering hurt from her parting with her own former Master, too. But maybe it wasn’t simply _having_ connections that was the problem. It was letting those connections dominate your life, get in the way of what was right. If anything, Master Secura had showed her how to stand on her own and walk that fine line, and walk it with her head held high.

 

And maybe that was what being a Jedi was all about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK what I'm doing with Aayla, Bly and Vos. I hope this is okay. I don't want to Vos bash (though, dude, you're kind of nuts), but no, he doesn't come off well here.


	10. Truce

“Hey Wolffe, so I had this thought. Next battle, you help launch me at the clankers, cause I’m so tiny-like, and…” Tai started say.

 

“No, it’s a pointlessly insane stunt,” he said, voice clipped.

 

Tai tamped down her frustration and got back to holding the defenses while the Wolfpack charged ahead.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, new idea,” Tai said, bright grin on her face, having found the Wolfpack as they were on a ledge above a Seppie placement.

 

“No,” he said flatly before she could even suggest anything.

 

Now she was starting to get annoyed.

 

* * *

 

“You know, maybe if you weren’t such a hardass Wolffe, things would go better,” Tai said, snark creeping into her tone.

 

“Maybe if you weren’t such a _youngling_ , we could do our job properly,” he shot back, and she narrowed her eyes dangerously. It was the look that had sent her youngling clan-mates running for cover. Not that Wolffe knew that.

 

“Right, sorry, didn’t go through flash training and fast aging to be an adult. Doing it the old fashioned way, guess that’s my fault,” she hissed.

 

“What the hell do you know, little girl, about what its like being a trooper? You played Trooper-ball with the 332nd, and you think you know us?” Wolffe growled, towering over her. Tai didn’t give him a damned inch. “Get out of my sight before I upset the General.”

 

“Go on, _try it_. I _dare_ you,” Tai said, drawing herself up to her full, if unimpressive height.

 

Wolffe bunched his shoulders and tensed.

 

“What is going on here?” Master Koon asked in his deceptively mild tone. “I had thought you two had found a way to work together.”

 

The disapproval in those words was horribly clear, and Tai wanted to sink into the ground. They _had_ been alright for a little while. Wolffe respected her Force abilities, listened to her about troop placement, but when it came to _her_ , he was totally different. Angry, on edge, dismissive, and Tai had finally had enough of it.

 

“I am sorry, Master,” she said. Wolffe’s shoulder’s slumped.

 

“My apologies, General. From now on, your Padawan and I will keep things professional,” the trooper said, a clear note of worry in his voice. Tai knew Wolffe cared about her master, cared about him a lot. Why that didn’t seem to translate to anything else baffled her.

 

Master Koon considered them both for a moment, and Tai got the distinct impression that they were in about equal amounts of trouble. And that this, maybe, was what children of parents felt like when they got caught fighting like she had read about and seen on the holoprograms.

 

Then the Kel Dor master sighed and waved them away.

 

“About your business, then,” he said, and Tai bowed before she fled. She didn’t look behind her to see Wolffe frowning. He always frowned, to her at least, but this time it was thoughtful.

 

* * *

 

Tai didn’t _really_ dislike Wolffe.

 

He was a good commander, cared about his men, and they could work well together.

 

When neither of them managed to touch off the other’s nerves.

 

“Tai,” Master Koon had said to her, locating her after that debacle earlier, “I would take it as a kindness if you stopped, hm, winding up Wolffe so much.”

 

“I am sorry, Master,” Tai said quickly, “And I don’t mean to disrespect you or Commander Wolffe. It just…” she trailed off, lips twisting, not sure how to say what she was thinking.

 

“Take your time,” Koon said patiently, and he waited. Tai composed her thoughts and tried to explain herself.

 

“I didn’t like him when I first showed up, that’s true enough. But I showed him what I can do, and I thought, ‘alright, we can work together, if he’s going to respect me and my abilities.’ That was good, right? I thought it was good. But then I noticed that he didn’t really listen to me, that he saw me as a Jedi and a Padawan, but… I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words. Sometimes it seems like he and I get along alright, and then the next moment we’re fighting like two rancors over the last bit of meat. I think we just set each other on edge, but I don’t know why! Sometimes I think that it something he’s been through, that he’s got scars we can’t see, but other times I swear he just finds me annoying.”

 

Plo Koon studied her then, and she could feel his gaze even behind the protective lenses he wore. She tried to keep herself steady and mostly managed.

 

“You are correct. Wolffe has been through much. He has lost many brothers, and more parts of himself than his eye, my Padawan,” Koon said, and Tai could hear and feel his sorrow for Wolffe.

 

“So he’s lost a lot, but why does that make him so… I don’t know what to call it. And I don’t know why this gets directed at me!” Tai said, all but wailing in despair.

 

“Have you considered, Tai, what you appear to be from his perspective?” Koon asked her. Tai raised a skeptical eyebrow.

 

“Other than a daily annoyance?” she asked dryly. Master Koon let out a brief chuckle, then shook his head.

 

“Think about where he has been and what he has seen, my Padawan,” Koon suggested, and Tai huffed.

 

Plo Koon would not simply tell her what he was getting at. Instead, he would point her in the right direction and see if she could reach the end of the road on her own. So she thought about it, thought about what she had read in his file, and what she knew of the man and how he behaved with his brothers contrasted against how she knew other troopers worked.

 

Then it clicked.

 

Wolffe had lost the brothers he had held the closest to him. He had been tortured by the Sith assassin Ventress, and she had cost him his eye. Brothers had died to free him.

 

And then she walked into his life.

 

Small.

 

Fragile.

 

Trained, but not completely for battle.

 

Wolffe _cared_.

 

And it scared him, because his brothers he trusted to look after themselves. His General was a full Jedi Master and more than capable.

 

But Tai?

 

When she helped set up defensive fortifications, establish a parimeter, pick out a likely battlefield, he was all approval (such as Wolffe’s approval went). But every risky thing she suggested he shot down without hesitation. Every crazy chance she took, he was on her case. That it only made her more determined to go take risks and chances seemed to send them on this vicious cycle.

 

Wolffe was afraid. But troopers had funny reactions to fear. Some of them pushed through, but most of them reacted poorly. They had been told all their lives that they weren’t supposed to be afraid, that fear made them _bad soldiers_. That meant she was what was making a bad soldier.

 

She looked at her master then, eyes wide with understanding. Her master seemed to sense her comprehension without her having to say a word, and Plo Koon’s approval was not a burst, was not something sudden or flaring, but rather like a sunrise over a vast plain, gradual and subtle and glorious.

 

“I commend you, my Padawan, on your understanding,” her master said, and Tai didn’t feel proud. She felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. “Perhaps, we can find a way to remedy this situation, yes?”

 

“Yes, Master, I would like that very much,” she said eagerly. One solution would be to send her back to the Temple, and she did not want that.   Plo Koon was her Master, and her place was at his side. But she couldn’t ignore, once it had been pointed out to her, how she had managed to do a number on Commander Wolffe’s head.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Wolffe,” she said, trying not to sound brusque. The trooper looked up at her from his spot on a bench in the mess hall. His one good eye balefully fixed on her. He grunted by way of greeting.

 

“Sorry for winding you up,” she said, then sighed. “Really, I am sorry about it, but you can’t keep me safe forever, trooper.”

 

“Its my job to keep you from getting yourself killed, youngling,” he growled, and pointedly went back to reading his datapad.

 

“Sure, if you want to go crazy,” she said derisively. “You can’t protect me from everything.”

 

Wolffe met her gaze again, clearly annoyed.

 

“I didn’t ask for you as an addition to my job. The General asked for you, and I respect that. Hell, I respect what you can do for the 104th, finding places that are good to defend and attack. Good stuff. Stick to what you’re good at,” he said, and she felt like screaming at him.

 

So she did.

 

“If you really respected _me_ and not my _abilities_ , you’d stop coddling me!” she declared. “But you don’t. You see me as this _kid_ to protect. Not even a shiny trooper. You’re so scared of me dying, of not doing your job, you don’t actually see _me_! Which pisses me off! Not very Jedi of me, but there it is! And it’s not your job to keep me perfectly safe! You can’t stop every bad thing from happening! The Force will take me when it takes me, and I won’t live scared just because you are!” She snapped her mouth shut and breathed through clenched teeth, her fists balled at her side.

 

Breathing out slowly and closing her eyes, she focused on regaining her calm. When she opened her eyes again, Wolffe was staring at her, his face blank, but his one good eye, his grey eye was hard.

 

“What do you know of fear?” he asked, voice deceptively soft.

 

“I know that it’s a bad basis for decision making,” she retorted.

 

He grunted, almost as if he agreed with her.

 

“I’ve lost a lot of brothers, lost most of the Wolfpack. Koon tell you that?” he asked, tone mild. She nodded. “He kept the squad intact, though. Never could figure out why.”

 

Wolffe paused thoughtfully.

 

“Alright, fine,” he said sharply. “You come with the Wolfpack. You work with our squad until I think you’re good enough to work with others. Deal?”

 

Tai smiled.

 

“Deal,” she said, holding out her hand. His large hand engulfed hers, but they shook on it.

 

She hoped that would solve the problem.

 

* * *

 

Plo Koon watched as his children returned to him, another successful mission accomplished together. He smiled. It did his heart good to see them getting along so well, for real this time, the root of the problem torn from the ground an examined in the light of day. They still snipped and snarled at each other, argued and challenged one another, but he knew that should the worst happen, should he fall, his children would not be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't the laugh a minute Tai-Wolffe interaction folks were hoping for, I know, but I hope it satisfies regardless. 
> 
> We're almost done catching up with the characters we need to catch up with, getting everyone in position for what's about to happen next to our favorite Knight-Errant. (She's our _only > Knight-Errant, true, but nevermind that.)_


	11. Accord

Cody really did not like Ventress.

 

He hesitated to say that he hated her. Jedi aversion to such strong language notwithstanding, he wasn’t sure if she was actually worth the trouble of hating. Oh, the men hated her alright. Especially that first time she walked onto the ship like she expected the men to be ten feet high when she said ‘jump.’ When they didn’t, it had clearly made her determined to get them to jump.

 

Well, until General Kenobi got wind of it and had come down her like a ton of duracrete.

 

And Cody did admit to himself that he had rather enjoyed being able to witness that exchange.

 

But it had made her worse in some ways.

 

She poked and prodded, trying to pry apart _something_ about them. Cody just wasn’t sure what she actually wanted.

 

If he did know, he’d probably give it to her, just to get her stop bothering the men. He put himself between her and them (and them and _her_ ) as often as he could, but it was wearing.

 

“Can’t we just space her?” Boil asked, glaring at him. Cody even let that tiny flare of insubordination pass, a testament to how they all had changed because of the new circumstances.

 

“It would upset the General,” Cody said, giving his trooper a dry smile, one that he was pretty sure didn’t touch his eyes.

 

“He’s lucky he’s _our_ Jedi,” Graven muttered, hunched over his breakfast.

 

“We’re lucky to be his troopers,” Cody corrected mildly. “If he can see that… _shabuir_ as a person and someone worth helping, well. That’s what the Republic is all about right? That’s what we’re fighting for, boys.”

  
There were a few wide eyes at hearing their commander curse like that, but they all nodded. Helping people like Ventress was part of the job, was what made them better than the Seppies.

 

But no, that wasn’t the only reason Cody tolerated the woman.

 

It was because she gave Kenobi a purpose, a reason to keep breathing, she gave him hope, odd as that was, that he could _fix things_. And if it took redeeming a Dathomiri witch to help Obi-Wan Kenobi heal after Mandalore, well. Cody would grin and bear it.

 

* * *

 

Ventress did not care for the clones.

 

She fundamentally couldn’t understand them. At all. Other slaves around the galaxy all knew what they were. And even though some complied or some eagerly served their masters, it was because there were clear benefits to such actions. There were no benefits to a clone’s life.

 

Clones _died_.

 

They died screaming, on fire, dismembered, crushed, cut in half, and a myriad of other ways that Ventress was almost impressed with the cruelty of the galaxy.

 

But they went to their deaths _eagerly_.

 

It was almost sickening.

 

So she pushed and prodded, trying to understand what made a man, albeit a programmed one, run into the fire like that. Run into the fire for a Republic that had _bought_ them, and would use them until there was nothing left. Oh, the Jedi protected the troopers how they could, but they still participated in his farcical war.

 

They had lost the moral high ground in her eyes long before now, and had done little to raise their status since.

 

But she kept pushing, and the clones kept finding ways to avoid her. It was maddening.

 

Well, all of them but one.

 

The one that called himself Cody.

 

He kept getting in her way, sending clones off on other tasks or informing her that they needed to run a tactical assessment. He made himself a target, in other words.

 

* * *

 

They were running a tactical simulation, as requested by General Kenobi, in order to counter another Separatist take over of another world that wanted nothing to do with war. So Cody was alone. With Ventress.

 

He could feel her staring at him, like she always did, her grey eyes boring into the back of his head. She had grown out her hair slightly, and taken to wearing less… distracting outfits, but she still had a sharpness to her that would never go away, he knew.

 

But it was her eyes, her eyes evaluating, judging, dismissing, that made him grit his teeth.

 

“Why do you do it?” she asked without preamble.

 

“Do what?” he asked in turn, keeping his voice mild It was a trick to dealing with her that he’d learned from the general.

 

She narrowed her eyes, and he tried not to smile.

 

“Fight, obviously. You’re programmed, bought and sold, but you have the training and the firepower, you could take over these ships and kriff off and be left alone. Let the Republic fight and bleed and die, instead of you and your brothers,” she said, voice hard and accusatory. Like he had failed _her_ for submitting to a trooper’s life.

 

He briefly thought of Slick, still in a Republic prison, and how his brother’s words had cut him to the core. How Slick had said everything every last _vod_ knew, but never said. But Slick had betrayed them all for his own freedom.

 

Cody thought about what he could say, or not say. He thought about ignoring her, as Rex (and General Tano, and he was going to have words with his brother about involving _her_ in their chatter) had advised. But this, he realized, was what she wanted.

 

He didn’t know her story. She would likely never tell him.

 

But this mattered to her.

 

So he looked at her directly then, his dark eyes meeting her pale ones, and he let something of himself show.

 

“For my brothers. There’s still a million of them back on Kamino, cadets going through training. They’d firebomb the place if we rebelled. And my brothers out in the field, not all of them would leave, so I fight for my brothers, and…” he took a breath. This was something he’d never said, never told _anyone_. Not General Kenobi, not even Rex, but it was something he had given a great deal of thought.

 

“If my brothers and I are going to have any single shred of hope of being free, the Jedi are our best bet,” he said, and something in him broke a little at actually admitting that. That even his General was complicit in slavery, in doing _wrong_ , but there it was. Cody knew that the longer they were out of Kamino, the less the programming held. Hell, Rex, Bly, Wolffe, Gree. They were all examples of clones who did what they felt to be correct, not what they were programmed to do.

 

He just hadn’t thought _he’d_ lost so much of his own programming along the way.

 

Ventress leaned back after his admission, her eyes… evaluative.

 

“So at least one of you sees the truth. Good. If the _Jedi_ don’t fight for your freedom, I will,” she said, and Cody felt like someone had just taken his legs out from under him. The surprise must have showed on his face.

 

“Don’t look so surprised, clone,” she drawled, one eyebrow arching and a smug grin starting at the corner of her mouth. “I have no love of holding others in chains, real or otherwise. Perhaps it is the only… hm, what does Kenobi call it, the only _decent_ thing I do?” She laughed, sharp and bitter. Cody got his face and his mind back under control and considered her then, and maybe, just maybe, understanding was mutual.

 

“Are you going to stop harassing the men now? Is _this_ what you wanted?” he asked.

 

“Something like it,” she said.

 

Then they got back to work.

 

* * *

 

“Cody, I have noticed that you and Ventress are getting on better now. I must commend you on your forbearance. I know she is difficult to work with, but seeing this, it gives me hope,” Kenobi said, his blue eyes warm, as he patted Cody on the shoulder.

 

“You know what, sir? Me too,” Cody said. And for a wonder, he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not supposed to be this. Once again, Ventress surprises me in all sorts of fun ways. She is the most unruly character I've ever written.
> 
> Mando’a:  
> Shabuir = extreme insult, worst possible version of ‘jerk’


	12. Confessions

Obi-Wan sat across from Anakin as they shared a simple pot of tea in Anakin’s room about the _Resolute_. It had been a near miss, this meeting, but Obi-Wan felt Anakin slipping from him again, like before the first battle of Geonosis. They had never broken their training bond, it had served them too well in this war, and as such Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was not well.

 

It was, in many ways, worse than when Anakin lashed out. Anakin lashing out was almost _expected_. Defying orders, pulling stunts that would make his hair grey, haring off with no plan but his lightsaber and a faith in his own power. As maddening as that was, Anakin’s current state was far, far more troubling.

 

Anakin was withdrawn, almost turned in on himself.

 

It would not do.

 

Because if he had learned anything since Mandalore, since helping their Padawan (and now he could admit that Ahsoka was _theirs_ ), since providing Ventress a platform to redeem herself, he could not let situations simply resolve themselves. He could not stand by and trust in the Force, as though the Force would somehow fix things itself.

 

The Force put him here to help Anakin, and that was what he would do.

 

Thus, they were here and now, each of them passing each other by as they headed to separate missions. Again.

 

But now, now was time for tea.

 

And a long overdue conversation.

 

“I have been threatening us having a talk about some things, Anakin, and I thought it about time I made good on it,” he said with a small smile, trying to draw Anakin out, teasing him ever so slightly but in a way that generally worked.

 

Anakin at least returned the smile, however briefly.

 

“What is there to talk about? I’m sure you’re rather busy with Ventress,” Anakin started to say, but jumped as Obi-Wan nearly slammed his mug of tea to the table. The younger man looked up and saw a steely determination in those blue eyes. If anything, Anakin was more shocked that Obi-Wan nearly spilled tea.

 

“I am never, ever so busy that I do not have time for you, Anakin. Do not think that for one moment,” Obi-Wan said, and it nearly broke his heart to see the war of feeling in Anakin’s eyes. Obi-Wan sighed.

 

“I have put off this for too long, if we have lost what progress we had as friends,” he said. “And for that, I am sorry, Anakin. I would like you to talk to me, to talk about the darkness I saw in you, the thing you’re keeping secret, and I’m not talking about Padme.”

 

Anakin tried to swallow down his panic, as something in his mind twisted. Obi-Wan knowing about Padme was something had adjusted to. The Jedi had not cast him out, so his former Master hadn’t told anyone, but that darkness, that shame… the easy way, the anger, the hate, the righteous zeal…

 

He scared himself sometimes.

 

Because it was always there, these feelings.

 

And it was so easy.

 

“I can’t,” Anakin said, feeling his throat constrict in horror. “Please, don’t… Obi-Wan, you’d look at me differently, and I couldn’t stand that.”

 

Obi-Wan quickly debated his options, and knew that there was only really one. Anakin, a man who remembered his mother’s love, needed to know that he was loved still. But love did not mean looking away.

 

“Anakin,” the older man said softly, drew a breath and rose only to kneel beside the man they called the Chosen One, but who was, really, only a man, only still in many ways a boy born to slavery. Anakin looked down, his eyes wide, afraid and surprised and looking like he wanted to run and hide, but he stayed.

 

Obi-Wan had never been so proud.

 

“It is difficult, the most difficult thing we do as people, as Jedi, to confront the darkness inside ourselves. No one is immune, and it is something we all struggle with,” Obi-Wan began, and he saw the panic leaving Anakin’s eyes. Here was a man who could face down overwhelming odds, but shied away from what was in his own heart.

 

The irony was not lost on Obi-Wan. Nor the tragedy.

 

“You don’t,” Anakin said softly.

 

“I do,” Obi-Wan said. “After Satine… died, I wanted to destroy Maul. I wanted… Anakin, I wanted revenge. This is difficult to admit, but it is true. But I thought of _her_ , of what she wanted, of what she fought for, in her own way. And I would not do that to her memory, to taint it so. As much as I loved her, and I mourn her still, I would not tarnish who and what she was for my own revenge.”

 

“How… how do you do that?” Anakin asked. “How do you remember to think like that when it hurts so much?” There was a desperation in his eyes now. “When someone you love is on the line, how do you let them go when… when…” He trailed off, his hand clenching almost convulsively.   His breathing was also coming in shorter gasps, and Obi-Wan was starting to see that something was deeply, deeply wrong with Anakin.

 

“Because I love them more than I love myself,” Obi-Wan said simply, and Anakin’s head jerked up at that, staring him dead in the eye.

 

“I killed them,” Anakin said, breathing ragged, shallow. “I _slaughtered_ them. After she died, after they killed her. She died in my arms, in the desert, and I…. I didn’t think, I couldn’t think, it was like something else took over and I had no control, and… and… I’ve done things, Obi-Wan, because I _hated_ them, _hated others_. I wanted to _fix things_ , and it works! You know, scare them. Hurt them a little, and you get the information you need, but… I can feel it. I can feel it making me different, and sometimes, Obi-Wan, I don’t care.”

 

It was almost too much for Obi-Wan to parse out, this confession, but that was what it was. Anakin had seen his mother die, and Obi-Wan had failed him, had not gone back and protected the woman who had loved and borne the boy Obi-Wan had finished raising. Or tried to.

 

He wondered if she would thank him or curse him for letting things get to this point.

 

But now was not the time for self-recrimination. Now he needed to help Anakin find himself again, find that happy, bright boy who shone with love and excitement. Because somehow, between then and now, Anakin had become twisted up inside and didn’t know how find his way out.

 

“Anakin, Anakin,” Obi-Wan called softly, dragging the other man’s attention away from his own demons to see his friend before him. Still there. Not yelling, not rebuking. But trying to understand.

 

“I need you to listen to me, can you do that?” he asked, and Anakin nodded. “I will not lie to you. If what you are saying is true, you have done bad things, and we will face that together. But that does not mean you are necessarily a bad person, that you cannot find redemption, that you cannot find your way back to the light, Anakin. No one is so far gone that they cannot leave the darkness. This is not something I simply believe, it is something I know, something I have seen.”

 

“Ventress?” Anakin asked, a wild hope in his eyes. “She’s was always so dark, so hateful, so angry.”

 

“And she is still angry, though she no longer hates so. And her darkness is less. Perhaps she will never be a Jedi, but there is more to the Force than the Jedi and the Sith, we both know that,” Obi-Wan said, carefully, ever so carefully leading Anakin from outside of his own mind.

 

There was still something off, something not quite right, now that he thought about how Anakin had been when he had been very young, but for now his victory for Anakin’s soul would have to be enough.

 

“Its hard to remember sometimes, but, thank you, Obi-Wan, for reminding me,” Anakin said, looking steadier, more like his old confident self. Obi-Wan stood, placing a firm hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

 

“You have good instincts, Anakin. You have a generous, loving heart. This is not wrong, but remember that we love people for themselves, not because of how they make us feel,” he said gently, and Anakin nodded.

 

Obi-Wan was not sure how long this newfound steadiness would last. Anakin had made promises before and broken them, but perhaps now that he no longer felt as though he had to keep a terrible secret to himself, he might find the strength to resist his own darkness. Because Obi-Wan knew he could only do so much. It had to come from Anakin himself, if it was to have any real meaning.

 

But as long as Anakin Skywalker needed him, Obi-Wan Kenobi would always be there.

 

There was nowhere else he would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Life things. International move coming up. Good times.
> 
> Anakin's a bit different here. Feeling isolated and kind of afraid of his own mind (plus the strings that Palps pulls on don't help), hence the panic as Obi-Wan pushes.
> 
> But they manage.
> 
> Kind of.
> 
> Baby steps guys.


	13. Twisting

Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin considered himself a practical man. The war that was being fought was for the soul of, not the Republic he now saw, but the _galaxy._ There was, he knew, a rot at the heart of the galaxy, an _infestation_.

 

The Chancellor had made it so, so clear.

 

Oh, the old man had been all mollifying tone and apparently unconcerned, but he had read between the lines. The Jedi were not the powerful vanguards of the galaxy that they claimed to be. Their power was waning. They were held back by their moral code. They lacked the killer instinct.

 

Save one that he knew of, but that one was far, far too committed to the Jedi cause to work with properly.

 

But worse, even worse, Tarkin had the suspicion that underneath their talks and support for peaceful resolutions, the Jedi were prolonging the war. Peace was simply their way of vying for power. The Jedi talked of service, of sacrifice, but he had begun to see them for what they were. Since they took the trial of Ahsoka Tano away from him, since they besmirched his reputation with their whispers and their oh so understanding expressions, since they once again isolated themselves from any checks on their power.

 

It was _her_ fault.

 

All of it.

 

That _girl_.

 

Her defiance, her self-assured stance on being _right_ that all the Jedi shared. She was their ultimate product. Someone who thought themselves above the processes of law and justice. Someone who would do what they _felt_ was right, contravening the very system they were supposedly sworn to protect.

 

Her fault, his loss of power and prestige. The other Admirals turning on him, resenting his quick rise already.

 

But, she had also opened his eyes.

 

So he owed her for that.

 

The Chancellor had been all too pleased with his suggestion. A watchdog. Secret. There was sentiment against the Jedi lately, but with their current heroics and relief missions, their public face one of determination and solidarity. It was, after all, difficult to besmirch the people who bled and died for you.

 

That was why proof was needed. Carefully accumulated proof, tracing comm-links, monitoring activity, and, if needed, dragging information out of the Jedi themselves. Tarkin had been in the Citadel. He had taken notes.

 

Just in case.

 

He had never been one to turn information away.

 

Always, always a practical man, Tarkin smiled as he walked through his new ship, with his new uniform, surrounded by men loyal to ripping out corruption by its very roots.

 

“It is a brave new day,” he said softly to himself, and he smiled like a shark, his pale eyes grim and gleeful at the same time.

 

And in an opulent red office in Coruscant, Darth Sidious’ smile was an echo of Tarkin’s, or perhaps Tarkin’s was an echo of his own. Because he had always seen the advantage of having more than one path to victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Palps continues to be creepy. Hence short, because I can only stand to write this nastiness for so long. XD


	14. Gifts

Rex knew Ahsoka was up to something.

 

She wasn’t Fives-level bad at lying, but she was no Hardcase. That man, for all his hyperactivity, had been able to lie to no less than _Krell_. The suspicious activity had begun after Ossus, and their abortive attempt at a little R &R on the normally Republic and trooper-friendly planet. She had started asking questions, innocent ones, about hobbies, interests, what they like to do in their down time.

 

The weird thing was, she likely knew all of this already, but these questions had a different tone to them.

 

It was strange.

 

He was pretty sure Kersos was in on it, too.

 

Which made Rex more than a little nervous.

 

In his experience, when a Jedi general and a Republic Navy admiral were planning something, it didn’t bode well for troopers. Even stranger, only a few days after Ossus, they had a civilian ship dock, unload a massive amount of equipment, and leave.

 

And the navy men took over handling it.

 

Normally, off-duty clones were tasked with menial labor, but not this time.

 

It was making Rex’s internal barometer of danger go haywire.

 

So two days after the cargo shipment, Rex was in the mess trying to enjoy a mug of _caf_ and go over the duty roster, and resolutely _not_ think about whatever it was that Ahsoka was hiding from him. Which, of course, meant that she sat down opposite him with an inordinately pleased grin on her face.

 

“Got a surprise for you, Rexter,” she said, nearly vibrating with suppressed glee. The barometer went from _we’re all going to die_ to _nothing good is ever a surprise_ in less than a standard second. Still, he kept his composure and set down the datapad before calmly regarding his general.

 

“Would this be what you’ve been up to for the past five days?” he asked mildly. Instead of being put out at being caught, she perked up even more.

 

“I think you’ll like it. But it’s not just for you, you understand. It’s for the whole battalion, but I thought you’d like to be there for the reveal. And that you’d like a little warning,” she said, flashing him a sharp grin. It occurred to him, as she stood on the table and immediately got the attention of every trooper in the mess, that she hadn’t actually told him what the surprise was. Just that she had something.

 

Which he had already figured out.

 

Some troopers might think that a Jedi thing to do. They would be correct, but Rex knew that this was all Ahsoka, wanting him to have a surprise as much as the rest of the men, but respecting the fact that he _hated_ surprises. Sighing, he stood and prepared to support his general, no matter what kind of insanity she had in store for them.

 

To a man, every trooper watched their general, no wariness in their eyes. Just a readiness to do as ordered, and a willingness to fight and die at the word of this young woman, the young woman who fought and bled beside them.

 

“I know this has been a big adjustment for all of you. Half of you are from the 501st, and have had precious little rest. Those of you new to us from Kamino, I know you have had your own struggles. Meeting the reality of the galaxy is always a bit of a shock, no matter how good your training,” she said, and gave them all a laconic grin, clearly including herself in that category. That earned her a low chuckle from the men, and Rex wondered when in all the hells did she learn how to work a crowd like this.

 

Probably from all those Senators she knew.

 

“But the Admiral and myself think that the Relief bill is taking too long, and we all learned that we can’t rely on the kindness of various planets in the galaxy to give you all the warm welcome you deserve,” she continued, building up a good amount of momentum.

 

“So, we thought of a way to fix that. Follow me if you want to see this!” she called out, jumping down and striding off. Rex was at her heels, and the rest of the men were not far behind. Fives and Jesse pushed and shouldered their way forward, Kix and Tup in tow.

 

“Commander?” Fives asked, looking at Rex askance.

 

“She only told me there was a surprise,” he confessed, but snuck a quick glance behind them and saw that they were picking up more and more men. At this rate the whole battalion would be following her to one of the cargo bays, which was where they seemed to be headed.

 

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” Jesse asked.

 

“Clearly good, or she wouldn’t be smiling,” Tup reasoned, and Rex figured he was probably right, but troopers had never had a good surprise before. This was unfamiliar territory, and Rex could tell it was making his command staff nervous even as the rest of their brothers were growing in eager excitement. Ahsoka ignored the byplay, and stopped before the doors of the third cargo bay, the smallest and least used.

 

“Give me a lift boys, didn’t think this bit through enough, I see,” she said, and Tup and Fives easily knelt, letting her put one foot in their cradled hands and lifting her easily so she was visible to the massed lot of troopers. Every eye was on her, because now it was all so built up, so he hoped it was a _very_ good surprise.

 

“Gentlemen,” she called, “welcome to the _Adamant’s_ very own cantina!”

 

Behind her, the cargo bay doors opened and inside it had been transformed. But this was no ordinary cantina. There was a drinks bar and a place for food service, but there was also a miniature library, and work desks, and instruments, and more and more and more. It was as if someone had crammed every hobby, craft, scholarly pursuit and entertainment into one place.

 

Ahsoka jumped down from her perch, and Rex drew even with her as the men streamed into the place, eyes wide, unbelieving. Rex watched his men, his brothers, test the tools and datapads and instruments, seeing that they could touch them, work with them, and no one would tell them to stop, tell them to not. Beside him, he could feel Fives almost vibrating with the desire to check everything out, but he was command staff now, and so they stood next to their general while their brothers played for a few moments.

 

And out the corner of his eye, he watched Ahsoka.

 

She smiled, and that was expected. Her lekku were even doing that little happy twitch they did when she pulled off something daring. But it was her eyes that stopped his breath, because in those blue eyes was something inexplicably sad about watching these men encounter gifts for them, probably for the first time in their entire lives.

 

Words would be terribly inadequate right now, because no simple _thank you_ could properly communicate just how thankful every last man was, and how thankful Rex was, not for the gift, but for _her_. The woman who thought of the gift in the first place.

 

Then laughed, eyes once more that familiar brightness, and she turned to him and his brothers.

 

“Well, how’d we do?” she asked.

 

“We?” Jesse asked, and then Admiral Kersos sauntered up behind them. Rex was starting to wonder if Corellians learned how to saunter before they could walk.

 

“We,” the admiral confirmed. “Had a few old medical school friends in good places, and various family members who still talk to me in spite of joining the Republic navy. Called in a few favors, stated we were running an experimental program, talked about psychological effects.” Kersos waved his hand dismissively. “They were practically giving away things at that point.”

 

“Admiral, sir,” Kix started to say, then drew himself up. “ _Thank you_ , sir. It means a lot to the men, this. And I know we’re engineered to withstand stress, but…”

 

“I know, son,” Kersos said easily as he clapped his to Kix’s shoulder, like it was normal to call clones ‘son.’ Only one other had ever done that in Rex’s hearing. The admiral smiled. “I was a doctor long before I was in the Navy, and well. Psychology basics were mandatory, and frankly, I’m shocked at the state of things. Maybe the preliminary data we gather could help your brothers, eh?”

 

Kix brightened like a newborn sun.

 

“Sir, do you think I could help with that?” the CMO asked eagerly. Jesse rolled his eyes at their brother’s enthusiasm, but none of them could fault Kix for it.

 

“Of course, take the tour, and then stop by my office,” Kersos said, then nodded at the rest of them. “Enjoy yourselves. Don’t be surprised if some Navy hands show up from time to time. Didn’t seem right to segregate you lot, but they know the educational and work materials are for you lot. I’ve been given to understand you all have a wide array of hobbies.”

 

“Understood, sir, and you have all our thanks,” Rex said, giving the other man a crisp nod. Kersos smiled. That smile with the hint of sadness. Another story there, another old pain mixed with something new. Another thing Rex knew he would likely never puzzle out.

 

With the admiral’s departure, they turned back to their general. She was smiling with her whole heart now, like she was fit to bursting.

 

“You all really like it?” she asked, earnest and young in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.

 

“Hell yes, we love it!” Fives said excitedly.

 

“Its amazing, General,” Tup said, and Rex could see the wonder in Tup’s eyes.

 

Ahsoka let out a high-pitched noise, just on the edge of their hearing, and thankfully Kix’s early medical briefings on Togruta physiology had braced them all for her happy noises. Granted, if they hadn’t been genetically manipulated, they wouldn’t have heard it anyway.

 

“Well, don’t wait on me!” she urged. And with no more urging than that, Rex’s command staff vanished. He had never seen them move so quickly, even on the night they served cake in the mess. Kix and Tup were already at the library, while Fives had ambled over the gaming tables in the cantina portion. A few navy personnel had already showed up and sat down across from Fives and other troopers like it was an everyday occurrence. Jesse, instead, wandered over to where there was some flimsi and some drawing tools, already composing a study of his brothers at play.

 

And across the room, near the donated instruments, the four men who started the trouble on Ossus in the first place, picked up various bits of musical equipment and started to play. Not well, but not badly either.

 

“You aren’t going to join them?” she asked, drawing up next to him, close but not quite touching. He shook his head.

 

“I can’t imagine anything better than getting to see them do this, to be _men_ , to be _people_ ,” he said, and he tried to keep his emotions under control. He must have felt a little too loudly, because she reached up and rested her hand lightly on his arm.

 

“We really do need to get you a hobby, Rexter,” she said, her blue eyes teasing, releasing some of the overwhelming feelings that were starting to bubble up in his chest.

 

“I have hobbies,” he countered. She raised a white brow.

 

“Like?” she drawled invitingly.

 

“Tell you later,” he said, “just let me enjoy this for a little while, alright?” She gave him a long look, but nodded her acceptance.

 

“Alright, you win for now,” she said, and then promptly left to go mingle, to go check in and see how her men were finding the new place. As he watched it all, her, his brothers, the navy crew joining them, Rex felt a little jolt of inspiration. Words would never, ever be enough. But he had always found actions to be more appropriate than words.

 

So. He would have to act.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka had only just returned to her bunk after seeing the last troopers out of the new cantina. They had been debating what to call the place. She had vetoed any and all attempts to name the place after her, although she had found the gesture sweet. The problem still unresolved, they had looked at the time and found themselves in danger of not getting any sleep before they made the jump back into realspace and back into the war.

 

And because she had only just laid down and had a mission to lead in less than five standard hours, there was a chime at her door. Sighing, she got up, but then paused thoughtfully as she felt who was on the other side.

 

Opening the door, Rex stood there, not in uniform or even his shipboard greys, but his one set of civvies. And for all that he looked as calm and collected as ever, he felt nervous.

 

Rex never felt nervous to her Force senses.

 

“You alright, Rexter?” she asked, worried. He worked his shoulders in that slow way that he did when he was working out how to say something important.

 

“Been thinking about a lot, about how much you do for us, all the things you don’t have to, and how saying anything isn’t even going to be enough, so,” he said and drew a breath. “Got a gift for you, in return, if you want it.”

 

She blinked, it now apparently her turn to be caught by surprise. But whatever he had cobbled together was clearly important to him, and whatever it was, she would treasure it. A gift from a man who had little to nothing to his name was all the more precious, she knew.

 

“Of course I do,” she said, smiling. He smiled back and gestured for her to follow him. They ended up in the cantina, deserted now, the lights dim, the chairs put up and away, but the music player was still on. She cocked her head at him, trying to get a measure for what he was planning. He turned to her, his golden eyes warm and thoughtful.

 

“I don’t… I don’t have much, Ahsoka. Nothing, actually, technically speaking. Not even myself,” he started to say, and maybe had he not been a clone from Kamino, there would have been sorrow or anger there, but Rex was simply stating facts as he saw them. It made her ache all over again for the _vod’e_ , and the raw deal the galaxy had dealt them.

 

“But I can give you a part of myself, something I learned that I kept to myself,” he finished, and held out his hand to her, palm up. He had certainly piqued her curiosity, and without any hesitation she slipped her slim orange hand into her larger tan one. Then he smiled, the music turned on, and he drew her to him in a classic dancer’s hold.

 

“You don’t happen to know the Alderaani waltz, do you?” he asked, smiling, his eyes dancing with laughter at her complete and utter open-mouthed shock.

 

“You can _dance_?!” she exclaimed. “You dropped hints, but I thought you were joking!”

 

He laughed.

 

“Found some old manuals when I was a cadet. Flash trained on them because I thought they were part of the program. I’ll point out I was only two at the time. Practiced where I could, just do to it, really. Only ever non-regulation thing I did before meeting Skywalker. Besides, you’re always bothering me to dance, thought you’d appreciate this,” he confessed, and she felt a joyful kind of absurdity bubble up inside of her. She laughed with him and then got herself back under control.

 

“Of course I know the Alderaani waltz. We learn to dance at the Temple, part of diplomatic training,” she told him, unable to keep from grinning.

 

“Good. Ready?” he asked. She nodded and he led them through the steps, a little halting at first but smoother as they went.

 

For some, it would be a paltry gift. A simple dance on a ship in a cobbled together cantina. But to her, who knew these men, who knew Rex, saw it for what it was. It was, in a very real way, all he could ever give freely. His time, a window into his heart, his very _self_ , because although his body was not his own, his soul most certainly was.

 

So they danced, and laughed, and it was the best gift she had ever received.

 

Because it was so much more than a dance, she came to understand as she finally laid back in her bunk to sleep.

 

Master Ti had been right.

 

Rex had given her his heart, and maybe he didn’t even see it, or it wasn’t love in the classic romantic sense. But it was all Rex had to give, and he had given it to her without hesitation or fear or reserve.

 

And Ahsoka vowed to do everything she could to be worthy of a gift such as that.

 

* * *

 

Rex had stopped wondering what possessed him to jump out that pipe, what made him follow this woman into hell and back, what made him want to invite her inside his own life, such as it was. He had to face facts.

 

He owed Wolffe five credits.

 

But Rex vowed to never get in Ahsoka’s way, to never drag her away from the life she had been born into and chosen. He would stand beside her for as long as he could, and he knew he would still count himself lucky, no matter how she felt about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The clones on the instruments are Mel, Pel, Yarin and Lucky from the first chapter. In my head they play [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28l-S16Ypfc) for their brothers eventually. It's cheerfully morbid!
> 
> Just a touch of rom-com and forbidden!romance at the end. Because life happens while you aren't looking. And because of Charity_Angel, I couldn't resist my own take on Rex having dancing as a hobby.
> 
> But now that we know where most of our players are, well, those who were affected by the AU most strongly, we're back off into plot!
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting on these little character studies and snippets. I hope to pick up the pace (alas, not posting times), and rocket through some crazy wild adventures.


End file.
